


lԄun along my trail

by Smiling_Seshat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Endorsement Deal, Homophobia, M/M, Only the last chapter is rated Explicit and the rest is rated Teen, Slow Burn, Victor and Yuuri film an advertisement together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiling_Seshat/pseuds/Smiling_Seshat
Summary: Instead of ending up in last place, Yuuri wins the Sochi Grand Prix Final.





	1. Triumph

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calloniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calloniel/gifts).



> I write 'Viktor' with a 'k' because it's the popular way to spell it in Russia and thus feels more authentic to me. I also spell Katsuki's name with two 'u's so it's easier to distinguish it from Plisetsky's name and because I've seen a lot of other AO3 writers spell it like that. I hope it won't inconvenience you people too much.

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Yuuri was seated between Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti, gaze blank and unseeing as he was assaulted by the flashes of the mass of photographers in front of him.

“Yuuri Katsuki!” exclaimed one of the journalists, a woman that had been viciously pushing others backwards so she’d get better access to the skaters. “How does it feel to have beaten Nikiforov on your first try at the Grand Prix Finals?”

He stiffened up even more than he already was, wound up so tight it was a miracle the journalist didn’t notice. He tried to avoid glancing at Viktor, who seemed rather interested in his answer.

Yuuri didn’t quite know where to look. The flashes were making him dizzy and it didn’t help that he’d been feeling sick since his victory.

_It feels terrible,_ thought Yuuri. _I just wanted to skate on the same ice as Viktor and be on his level. I never wanted to win. I just wanted to prove myself._

“It was… surprising,” answered Yuuri. He scratched the back of his head, subtly leaning backwards to create more space between him and the horde of journalists. “I expected bronze, if I was lucky. Not… gold.”

He could feel the persistent weight of the medal hanging from his neck. It felt heavy and oppressive, like his guilt.

How could victory make him feel so empty?

“You were the second best at the men’s short program, but you dominated the free skating program,” said another journalist. “What changed?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to answer, but another journalist interrupted him to address Viktor:

“Nikiforov! Does this loss mean you should retire?”

Viktor smiled, answering without even pausing to think, “No, of course not! A silver medal is not a loss. I’ll just work harder when I’m up against Yuuri at the World Championships.”

His English was good, with just a hint of a Russian accent. He spoke it much better than Yuuri, who still tended to fumble with his words.

Viktor turned and looked straight into Yuuri’s eyes.

“I’ll definitely beat you next time.” And then he winked, lips quirked up into a small smile. He didn’t even seem unhappy about his silver medal.

Instead, he was looking at Yuuri as though seeing him in an entirely new light.

-x-x-x-

Once he’d finished talking to the press, Yuuri immediately went to find a quiet spot so that he could take a look at the news. A lot of people tried to get the attention of the ‘man who beat Viktor Nikiforov’ but he ignored them in favour of bringing out his phone to look at what the news had to say.

_Katsuki beats Nikiforov at Grand Prix Finals!_ proclaimed a headline.

Yuuri grimaced. The headline seemed unnecessarily insulting towards Viktor. It singled him out by mentioning his name but none of the other competitors’. Did the news care only for Viktor and not the other skaters? The single-minded focus on Viktor only (and now Yuuri too, since he’d beaten the man) might make some of the other competitors feel angered that their hard work was being ignored.

Funny, how Yuuri only noticed these things now.

Beneath the headline was a large picture of Yuuri in the air, midway through a jump. Underneath the picture was an results table:

Yuri KATSUKI                         336.52

Viktor NIKIFOROV                  335.76

Christophe GIACOMETTI        301.46

Jean Jacques LEROY               288.59

Cao BIN                                 261.83

Michele CRISPINO                  258.67

Seeing Yuuri and Viktor’s names so close together gave Yuuri a fierce feeling of accomplishment. His guilt had lessened somewhat when it had become evident that Viktor didn’t care about losing the gold medal and just seemed even more competitive as a result.

The article itself, while mainly focused on Yuuri and Viktor, did talk about the other competitors a little. Yuuri’s eyes scanned the text, interested.

His coach, Celestino, had forbidden him from watching his competitors skate out of fear that Yuuri would feel stressed and pressurized by comparing himself to the others. He could still remember Celestino’s words:

“You become nervous too easily, Yuuri,” the man had said, “so I’ll take away what stresses you so that you can keep your focus!”

As a result, Yuuri hadn’t been allowed to see his competitors skate or the results they’d received. And he had to admit, it had helped him.

So he read the article with keen eyes. The article commented on Michele Crispino, explaining that his incorrect Lutz take-off edge and his apparent nervosity were what had led to his position as last.

The article also mentioned that Christopher Giacometti got his best score yet, though he had made one glaring error midway through his program in his triple flip-double toe-double loop combination that had gotten quite a few points docked from his score.

He would have stayed like that longer, just reading what people were saying about his performance, if it weren’t for the sudden hot breath against his ear.

“Yuuri~” was purred at him.

He jumped, startled beyond words, and whirled around.

“V-Viktor?!”

The man straightened up, raising his hand to give a carefree wave.

_“Privyet!_ It’s nice to meet you!”

Yuuri bowed and said, in the best English he could muster, “Hello. It's nice to meet you too.”

Viktor smiled. “I’ve come to ask for a commemorative photo!”

Yuuri frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Well it’s the first time someone has beaten me to first place. That warrants a picture, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so…” said Yuuri, baffled by Viktor’s easy acceptance of his silver medal when he’d been collecting gold ones for years. He was acting like the antithesis of a sore loser.

Viktor threw an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and pulled him close, making Yuuri tense up. The Russian then held his phone out for a selfie and said:

_“Usmivka!”_

Yuuri gave an uncomfortable smile while Viktor beamed at the camera.

“Wonderful!” Viktor exclaimed. He turned to Yuuri. “I invited the other skaters to skip the banquet and eat at a restaurant I know this evening. Will you come too?”

Dining with his childhood hero? Yuuri felt his mouth dry up.

“I have to go to the banquet,” he answered.

Viktor deflated. “Ah, so you dislike me that much…” He turned his back to Yuuri, emitting a gloomy aura.

“No no! I don’t! I like you very much!” exclaimed Yuuri, waving his hands frantically to try and make up for his misstep.

Viktor turned to face Yuuri once more, his smile back as though it had never gone away. “Great, I knew you'd come around!”

He caught hold of Yuuri’s arm and dragged him away.

_Did Viktor just manipulate me into coming with him?_ wondered Yuuri as he was pulled along.

-x-x-x-

The name of the restaurant was in Cyrillic, making it entirely impossible for Yuuri to read. The two skaters were greeted inside by a waiter who, upon hearing Viktor explain they were expected, gestured them towards one of the booths in the back of the restaurant.

The place had a nice atmosphere. There were visible wooden beams set in the walls and most of the furniture was in dark colours, giving the place a rustic and welcoming feel.

“Hello~” Viktor called out as soon as he saw the other skaters of the Sochi Grand Prix Finals sitting at a table, pulling Yuuri along as he went to join them. “Everything all right?”

Christophe Giacometti and Cao Bin were sitting next to one another, and had been looking quite bored of the long wait. As soon as Viktor had called out to them, they’d perked up, and Christophe leaned forward, both elbows on the table as he placed his head on his interlaced fingers.

“Oh,” began Christophe Giacometti, his voice low and his eyes hooded over his dilated pupils, “now that you’re here, everything’s just _fine.”_

Christophe, like Viktor, was rather tall. His shoulders were broad and his frame imposing. He wasn’t an extremely big boned man by any means, but considering most male skaters were on the slender side he seemed more impressive by comparison. His hair was set in an undercut, with the longer hair on top of his head having been dyed blond while the shorter hair was a dark brown.

At that moment, his eyes were set squarely on Viktor, a predatory expression on his face.

“The others couldn’t come,” said Cao Bin. “They were expected somewhere else.”

Cao Bin was the Chinese competitor that had come in fifth place. Yuuri had heard rumours that the man was planning on retiring once the season was over.

“Four people out of six is enough,” declared Chris as his gaze switched to Yuuri. His expression grew considering. “You know, out of everyone… I expected to be the one to beat Viktor one day.”

“Ah,” said Yuuri, scratching the back of his head. It felt exceedingly strange to know he’d beaten a man that had been winning medals since Yuuri was a kid. “I guess this evening was a bit of a surprise for everyone, then.”

Viktor sat down in the booth on the side closest to the wall and patted the seat next to him. With slight trepidation, Yuuri sat down to Viktor’s right.

“Tonight I’ll make you all discover Russian cooking!” declared Viktor, picking his menu up with a flourish.

Yuuri opened up his own menu but was dismayed by the fact that it was entirely in Russian. There wasn’t even an English translation for tourists.

“I can’t read this,” said Cao Bin, frowning at his menu.

“No problem!” said Viktor brightly. “I’ll order some of the best dishes and we can all share. Does anyone have any allergies?”

“I can’t tolerate seafood,” said Chris, leaning back to lounge in his seat. “Anything else is fine.”

“I don’t like spinach,” said Cao Bin.

Viktor turned to Yuuri, but Yuuri didn’t have any allergies and shook his head.

“Okay!” exclaimed Viktor. “I was thinking of having you try some pelmeni, but here they make them with fish so that won’t work. I’ll just get us some varenniki, which are dumplings that they stuff with meat and cheese. And then we’ll get some stroganoff, and pirog, and—”

He continued enumerating various dishes, gesturing enthusiastically as he explained. Yuuri’s eyes kept growing wider and wider as he listened. It was a surprise to see this version of Viktor. The magazine interviews and the TV coverings always made him seem more serious than this cheerful version Yuuri had in front of him. It was… nice, to get to know Viktor like this.

When the waiter arrived, Viktor engaged in rapid Russian, enumerating all the dishes that he wanted his fellow skaters to try. Yuuri was quite sure there’d be more food than the four of them could handle, but he left Viktor to it.

“Russia has some really great dishes that I’m sure you’ll all like!” said Viktor cheerfully. “and you should really take the time to visit the sights. There are some beautiful monuments around, and there are castles and really old churches and there are so many places you can go sightseeing.”

“It sounds great,” said Yuuri.

Viktor turned to him with a smile. “I could take you there someday, if you want.”

Yuuri ducked his head, unwilling to show how much the proposition had affected him. “T-that would be nice.”

Chris snorted.

“What is it?” Viktor asked the Swiss man.

Waving his hand, Chris said, “Oh, nothing, just thought of something funny.”

Yuuri sunk lower into his seat. He felt as embarrassed as if they’d all seen his bedroom back in Japan, with its walls covered in posters of Viktor.

“Say, Yuuri,” began Viktor, “what would you say is the secret to your success?”

Yuuri blinked, taken off guard. “Well, my coach focused on my endurance so I could perform harder jumps in the second part of my routine, and he asked some good skaters he knew to help me out as a favour.”

“My coach made me focus much more on technique,” said Cao Bin, “but I still fell today because I didn’t have the strength to do all my jumps right. Maybe if I’d done more endurance training it would’ve been better.”

“Endurance is important, but the main thing you need is feeling,” stated Viktor, leaning forward. “I’ve seen great skaters perform perfectly but without feeling, without passion, it still felt dead to me.”

“Right,” agreed Cao Bin. “Passion is vital you can have all the talent in the world, but without passion, you’ll never reach the top.”

Chris laughed. “Seung-gil Lee is the perfect example of that. He looks so _dead_ when he’s performing.”

They continued chatting pleasantly until their drinks arrived, at which point Chris whistled.

“Wow, Viktor, bringing out the fancy stuff,” said the man, eyeing the bottles. “Who’re you trying to impress?”

Viktor held one of the bottles up, showing it off proudly. “I can’t let you come to Russia without even trying some of our alcohol!”

“That’s vodka,” said Yuuri, looking at the label on the bottle.

“It’s really good vodka,” insisted Viktor, pressing closer to Yuuri.

Yuuri tried to move away, but he was already on the end of his seat and might fall off the side if he moved any further.

“Besides,” said Chris, plucking the bottle from Viktor’s hand, “you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.”

The food arrived relatively fast, barely ten minutes after the drinks had been brought to their table. The waiter set several aromatic dishes in the middle of their table, as well as empty plates in front of each person.

They dived in, taking spoonfuls of various dishes and setting them on their plates. Yuuri ended up favouring the stroganoff, while Chris seemed rather taken with his meat pie and Cao Bin ate steamed vegetables with visible contentment.

Viktor ate a bit of everything, though seemed quite invested in ensuring Yuuri tried everything, mostly by spontaneously putting more food on Yuuri’s plate.

“Try this!” he’d say as he served Yuuri some vinegret, or he’d announce that “This is really good!” as he gave Yuuri a small amount of salad composed of peas, potato, meat and other ingredients, covered in white sauce.

The behaviour only increased as the night went on and Viktor drank more alcohol. The man seemed to have a fairly good tolerance, though it made no difference. He drank like a fish, and it wasn’t long before he began losing his inhibitions.

“Why is it so warm in here?” Viktor complained, pawing at Yuuri’s shoulder. “We need to get them to turn the radiator down.” His speech was definitively approaching the ‘slurring’ stade.

Yuuri resisted the urge to lean into the touch of his childhood idol, and focused on what Chris and Cao Bin were talking about in an effort to distract himself.

“I was part of a marathon in China, the Yellow River one?” Cao Bin was saying.

Chris shrugged. “Haven’t heard of it.”

Viktor started tugging at his top, grumbling.

“Well there’s a really long river in China that often freezes solid, and I got to skate on it. It was really nice, though some of the cracks in the ice made me think I was going to fall through any moment.”

Finally, Viktor managed to pull off his top. “Free!” he crowed, throwing the article of clothing away.

It flew over the table and smacked into Chris’ face.

Yuuri’s face was as red as a tomato. His idol was an _exhibitionist_. It was unbelievable. The magazines had always made him sound so much more dignified.

“Viktor,” said Chris as he peeled the top off his face, revealing an expression of mild annoyance, “I don’t mind seeing you topless, but I’d rather you didn’t throw things at me.” He set it down next to him, not without pausing to take a long appreciative look at Viktor first.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” said Yuuri, taking Viktor’s half-full glass away from him and putting it on the other end of the table, near his own glass.

“Nooo…” whined the man, leaning closer to Yuuri so he could reach for his glass.

Tensing up, Yuuri pushed Viktor back in his place, trying to keep the skin contact at a minimum. It didn’t help that he could feel more of Viktor than he’d ever expected to.

Instead of insisting, Viktor returned to his seat and started taking his shoes off. One shoe was thrown out of the booth, ending up on the floor, while the other one was caught by Yuuri just before it hit his face.

When Viktor began tugging at his jeans, Yuuri hurriedly looked away, busying himself by examining Viktor’s shoe as if it was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

Then he frowned in thought as the label registered.

“Viktor?” he asked, staring at the snake logo on the shoes.

Mercifully, that distracted Viktor enough for him to stop drunkenly undressing himself and instead turn to Yuuri.

Yuuri continued: “Is this a Pios shoe?”

Viktor wrapped one arm around Yuuri and used the other hand to snatch his shoe from Yuuri’s grasp. Yuuri held very still, trying to ignore the proximity, as Viktor held the shoe up to the light, looking at it as though he didn’t recognize it. And then, suddenly, Viktor’s alcohol-addled brain cleared up enough for him to nod emphatically.

“Yes!” Viktor exclaimed, letting go of Yuuri to clasp the shoe with both hands and brandish it dramatically as though he’d made an important discovery. “I have an endorsement deal with Pios. I wear all their shoes - their trainers and their skates. I mostly do adverts for the skates, though.” He’d said it all slowly, pronouncing the words as perfectly as possible. He wasn’t completely ignorant of his state of drunkenness, and from what Yuuri could guess he was trying to seem more sober than he truly was.

“I see,” said Yuuri, trying to behave as though he didn’t have a copy of each picture of Viktor advertising said shoes plastered on the walls of his room back home.

“Do _you_  have an endorsement deal?” Viktor asked, looking straight into Yuuri’s eyes.

Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Yuuri simply shook his head.

“Yuuri’s still new,” said Chris as he tore into a chunk of meat. He chewed, looking at Yuuri critically, and then swallowed. “You look good, so it shouldn’t be hard to get yourself a contract. Now that you won gold, I’d expect some brands to notice you. You don’t have a lot of reputation yet because you’re young, but that’ll come.”

“I don’t know if I want an endorsement deal,” said Yuuri. “It feels kind of cheap to use my fame to make more money with advertisements.” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said and he turned to Viktor with a panicked expression. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you endorsing Pios shoes, or anything!”

Viktor waved the issue away with a good-natured smile. _“Ja ponimaju_. Some people see it like that. But Yuuri, endorsing a product doesn’t make you a shill. When you’re an athlete, you have to find an alternate way of getting money and an endorsement deal if the best way.”

Cao Bin nodded. “You can’t expect to skate forever. If you get into an accident, or you stop performing as well as you used to, then the money will start running out. A lot of athletes take endorsement deals because when they get too old to compete on the same level as they used to, advertising can really help. Once you’re past your thirties, your physical abilities go down, so you need another way of making money.”

“I see,” said Yuuri, contemplating the possibility.

“So,” said Viktor, leaning against Yuuri and reminding the young man of just _how little_ clothing Viktor had on. He was only wearing trousers. “Would you be interested in getting an endorsement deal?” He was still slurring a little, though he seemed to have forgotten to try and get his glass back.

Yuuri tried leaning away, but the only thing it did was make Viktor wrap his arms around him to keep him in place.

Chris snickered.

“Sure,” said Yuuri, desperate to get Viktor off him.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Viktor, holding him even tighter. “You should sign up with Pios! I’ll talk to them to get you signed up with them, that way we could do an advert together.” He grasped Yuuri’s chin to force the young man to look him in the eyes and said, voice lowered and face uncomfortably close, “Your first time could be with me.”

Yuuri froze, brain completely blank and unable to tell him how to deal with the intent behind that last sentence. Was it the alcohol, or was Viktor just naturally a flirt? The implications behind Viktor’s words were too much for Yuuri, but thankfully Chris interrupted:

“As nice as this is, we’ve got company." Chris leaned over the table to wave his hand in front of Viktor's face. "Viktor! Your boytoy is coming.”

Yuuri looked up and saw Yuri Plisetsky, who’d competed in the Grand Prix Juniors this year, stomping towards their table with a look of fury on his face.

“Viktor!” Yuri shouted, startling several diners.

Viktor smiled innocently at the boy as he came closer. “Yuri, what a nice surprise!”

“Surprise? Yeah right.” Yuri scoffed. “You were meant to be back by now! You promised you’d go over the recordings of my skating routine with me to help me improve!”

Viktor held his hand up in a calming gesture. “It’s fine, Yuri, we’ll just do it later.”

“Later?!” Yuri asked incredulously. “You made a promise, so you’ll keep it. Come back to the hotel, _now!”_

“Jeesh, kid,” said Chris, watching Yuri Plisetsky with amusement. “Chill out,will you?”

“Chill out?” repeated Yuri, a vein pulsing near his temple. “Chill out?! You people are the ones who’ve been keeping Viktor busy when he was supposed to—” He stopped talking when he finally noticed Yuuri’s presence.

Yuuri blinked, surprised, as all the anger seemed to drain out of Yuri. The boy even had a hint of red appearing on his cheeks.

“You,” muttered Yuri Plisetsky, staring fixedly at Yuuri. “You’re the skater who won first place at the Grand Prix finals.”

Yuuri was tense and uncomfortable under the stare of the boy who’d been nicknamed ‘the Russian punk’ by the public. “Yes, that’s me,” he replied.

“I want you to skate with me,” demanded Yuri. “Teach me.”

“Awww…” said Viktor, leaning drunkenly against Yuuri. “I thought you wanted _me_ to teach you.”

Yuri sneered. “Yeah, but then you _lost_.”

“Ahhh…” Viktor sighed, not bothered in the least. “One day you’ll realize victory isn’t everything.”

“Easy for you to say,” muttered Cao Bin. “You collect gold medals like candy.”

Christophe looked at the scowling Yuri asked, “Are you a fan Yuuri’s?” A teasing smile joined his words.

Yuri’s expression twisted in horror and he practically jumped away from Yuuri. _“No!”_ he protested loudly. “I’m not!”

“You’re really loud about it for someone who’s not a fan,” grumbled Cao Bin, stabbing one of his vegetables in irritation.

“What did you say?!” roared Yuri.

Attracted by all the noise, one of the waiters arrived.

“I’m sorry sir,” the man said in English, thinking Yuri was a foreigner because he hadn’t spoken any Russian, “but you are being bothering our other clients. We’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

Yuri didn’t move. He just kept glaring at Viktor.

Finally, Viktor gave in with a sigh. “I’ll go, just give me a minute.”

Viktor put on one of his shoes while Yuuri stood up and walked to the side to give Viktor the space to get out. Chris threw the top next to him at Viktor.

“Don’t go outside without that on or you’ll die of cold,” said Chris.

Viktor stumbled out of the booth, topless and lacking one shoe, and Yuuri could hear some of the other dinners titter.

“It’s too warm,” complained Viktor, blinking dazedly.

He was too sluggish to do much, so Yuuri bent over to pick up Viktor’s coat with its beautiful fur trims and opened it behind Viktor.

“Put your arms in here,” said Yuuri.

It took a little while, but Viktor managed to put the coat on while Yuri was tapping his foot against the floor, glaring murderously at the poor waiter standing next to him. Yuuri hadn’t managed to make Viktor put his top on, so he let the man hold onto it while he went to retrieve the other Pios shoe.

“Sit down,” he told Viktor when he grabbed hold of the shoe.

Viktor tilted to the side, disoriented, and so with a sigh Yuuri pushed the drunk man down until he was sitting in what had been Yuuri’s seat at the table. He took hold of the man’s foot and  put the shoe on. Then he went down on his knees and started lacing up the trainers.

“You know…” murmured Viktor, staring down at Yuuri. “I can’t remember the last time someone put my shoes on for me.”

Yuuri finished tying the knot and then did the other shoe, which Viktor had only jammed onto his foot without bothering to lace it up.

“There, all done,” said Yuuri. He stood back up and pulled Viktor up too.

“It was nice to eat with you,” said Viktor, standing much too close to Yuuri.

With a tight smile, Yuuri patted Viktor on the side of the arm and gently pushed him towards a glowering Yuri Plisetsky.

“Thanks,” said Yuuri. “You too.”

Both Yuri and Viktor headed towards the door, though after taking a few steps Viktor turned around to say one last thing:

“I’ll ask Pios to make a contract with you, Yuuri!”

Yuuri just waved goodbye and smiled politely, not thinking much of a drunken man’s parting words. Barely minutes later, he forgot all about the promise of an endorsement deal.

Viktor didn’t.


	2. Achievement

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Ayame and Kyoko, the hosts of _Talk With Us!_ , were two women that had started out as musicians in their teens. Their pop group had grown in popularity until it had disbanded ten years later, at which point the two women had decided to use their fame and money to start a TV show about the various celebrities of Japan, including politicians, authors, entrepreneurs, singers, and so on. Ayame and Kyoko were now in their thirties and still very popular among people of all ages. Ayame was known as the more bubbly, fun girl while Kyoko was reserved, polite, and more focused on knowledge. Ayame usually gave the show a good atmosphere while Kyoko was there to ask the guest in depth, sometimes inappropriate questions.

Yuuri was dreading those questions.

He sighed, trying to relax.

There was something unbelievably satisfying about being here, despite how nervous it made him feel.

Ever since winning the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri’s popularity had skyrocketed. A large number of Japanese newspapers proudly featured him as ‘the pride of the country’. He’d returned to Japan and had been immediately assaulted by the media. Everyone wanted an interview, a picture, or a signature. His inbox was filled with messages, ranging from congratulations from complete strangers to invitations for him to attend events and talk shows as a special guest.

When he’d called Celestino, bewildered by his newfound fame, the man had just laughed at him.

“Seems like you need to hire a manager, Yuuri! That’s what happens when you get famous. Just relax and enjoy the attention. You deserve it after how spectacular you were at the Final. Oh, and go to some of those events and talks shows, will you? It’ll do you some good to put yourself out there a bit more.”

So now, barely a month after his performance at the Grand Prix Final, here Yuuri was, taking Celestino’s advice. He’d gone to events, he’d been interviewed, and had been more friendly and extroverted than he could ever remember being. Being the center of attention had always made Yuuri anxious and uncomfortable, but he found that when it was linked to skating the attention didn’t seem to bother him as much.

Regardless, it was nothing less than nerve wracking, and he nibbled on the stubs of his already miniscule fingernails while he waited in the backstage area of yet another talk show. He could hear the two hosts talking, making some small chat before introducing the special guest of the day.

“We have a great surprise for you all today,” announced Ayame, one of the main hosts, practically bouncing in her seat. “Most of our guests these past months have been actors and singers! But with Japan’s great success in the Grand Prix ice skating tournament, we decided to change things up a little!”

All Yuuri could see was what the little television box in the back showed him, and hearing his cue he was ushered by stage hands towards the curtains that hid everything behind the scenes. They held up three fingers, counting down as Ayame’s voice continued:

“Please welcome Katsuki Yuuri!”

Yuuri slid his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles before he walked into view of the audience.

Two thirds of the audience were women, unsurprisingly, and the applause everyone gave seemed more polite than anything else.

Yuuri wasn’t disappointed. He knew figure skating wasn’t the most popular sport in the world, and considering the talk show was for celebrities in general without a specific focus on sport, much less figure skating, he would have been surprised if anyone in the audience had known who he was. Oddly enough, that thought was more helpful than any of the pep talks his coach or manager had given him, and he managed a small smile and a wave for the crowd.

The stage itself was rather simple, as most talk show stages were, he’d noticed. The floor was shining wood, recently polished before filming, with a large blue rug in the middle where the two hosts were sitting on sofas. There was a large, cushioned chair meant for the guest settled off to the side of them, slanted towards the audience. A decorative coffee table lay between them, though its sole purpose seemed to be carrying a large vase full of carnations.

When Yuuri reached the hosts, he bowed low to them and the audience before sitting down.

“This is the first time we’ve had a figure skater on the show,” Kyoko said, nodding sagely at the audience.

“And,” added Ayame, “it’s been at least a year since we’ve had an athlete as a guest, so please make Yuuri-san feel welcome, everyone!”

Yuuri gave her an awkward smile, scratching his cheek. “Thank you, Ayame-san.”

The woman smiled, crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. “It’s a pleasure, Yuuri-san. Now,” she clapped her hands and turned to the audience, “there are some people here today who may not have heard of our dear Yuuri-san. Am I right?”

Close to all of the audience nodded decisively, with most of them emitting various exclamations of ‘Yes!’ and ‘Yeah!’

In response, the serene background upstage transitioned smoothly to an image of Yuuri.  He was clutching his gold medal in disbelief, staring blankly into the camera. At the time he’d been sure there’d been some sort of mistake in the scores, just waiting for the medal to be taken away and delivered to it’s rightful owner. To this day, whenever he held the smooth trophy in his hands, it felt like something foreign, something that could never belong to him.

“You see,” said Kyoko, straightening in her seat, “the Grand Prix of Figure Skating is a series of senior international competitions. There are several disciplines: men's singles, ladies' singles, pair skating, and ice dancing. Last month, our dear Katsuki-san won the gold medal for the men’s singles, even beating the renowned Russian skater Viktor Nikiforov, who has been dominating the Grand Prix for years!”

An image of Viktor, arms outspread with his leg behind him, gliding across the ice like an angel come down from heaven. He had a longing look on his face, a few strands of his bangs lingering in his eyes, but they did nothing to hide the piercing blue stare. Yuuri recognized the picture from Viktor’s performance at the Grand Prix Final, and several female members of the audience made rapturous sounds of appreciation when they saw it.

Kyoko continued once the noise began to die down, “Yuuri also took part in the Japan National Figure Skating Championships a week ago, not long after the Grand Prix Final, and he won first place there too! He has proven himself the best Japan has to offer in figure skating!”

This time, when a picture of Yuuri in standing atop the podium at Nationals appeared, the applause was much louder. There was even some cheering thrown in.

“I’m not that good, Kyoko-san,” Yuuri interjected shyly, his cheeks burning hot  at her words. He was uncomfortable with the attention, yet pleased at the same time.

Kyoko laughed, hiding her mouth behind a dainty hand. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, Yuuri-san. You won those competitions fair and square and you’re allowed to be proud. We all are. From what I’ve heard, the Russians and Canadians are always doing better than us, so it’s nice to know that Japan got first place this season.”

“Go Japan!” exclaimed Ayame with a fist pump.

The audience laughed, and someone yelled “Go Japan!” back at her.

Ayame grinned and waved.

Kyoko, however, continued with a question, “So, Yuuri-san, what are your plans for the rest of the season?”

“Well…” Yuuri paused for a moment, praying he wouldn’t stutter, “I’m getting ready for the Four Continents Championship which will be held next month…”

When the hosts, as well as the audience, stared at him blankly, he pushed his hands between his legs and stared down at his knees. Thankfully, Ayame took pity on him, and was quick to ask, “What’s the Four Continents Championship?”

Instant relief. He looked up with a tiny grin. “It’s an annual skating competition for non-European skaters,” he explained.

Ayame grinned. “We’ll be sure to cheer for you when the time comes!”

Yuuri gave a shallow bow. “Thank you, Ayame-san. That’s very kind of you.”

“By the way…” said Kyoko rather suddenly, “I’ve heard a rumour I’d like your opinion on, Yuuri-san.”

Yuuri cocked his head, a sudden strike of fear in his heart. _Here come the invasive questions I was warned about.._. “What is it?”

Leaning forward, Kyoko said conspiratorially, “A Swiss skater called Christophe Giacometti made an interesting statement during his interview after he won the Nationals. So I was wondering, is it true the Russian skater Viktor Nikiforov made some unwanted advances during the night of the Grand Prix Finals?”

 _Yup, there it is_. Yuuri stared at Kyoko, unable to utter a sound, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The hostess raised a deceivingly delicate eyebrow, hardly bothering to hide her smirk. And, to make things worse, an image appeared on the screen behind him, Viktor drenched in sweat from a performance, winking with a sultry smile at the camera.

Someone in the audience wolf-whistled.

“No!” exclaimed Yuuri, frantically waving his hands to deny it. “No, you got it wrong! He only took his clothes off because he said it was too hot!”

Kyoko’s eyebrows flew up, eyes widening, and Ayame’s mouth dropped open with an audible pop.

The audience was dead quiet for a minute, before some brave woman let loose a loud whistle, clapping wildly. Yuuri put his face in his hands.

“Well, it turns out you two went ever further than I’d thought,” Kyoko said evenly, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Seems like Viktor’s advances weren’t _that_ unwanted, were they?” The smirk was back.

Yuuri hated the suggestive tone in her voice. It just made the humiliation worse.

“Nothing happened!” He sounded more desperate and harsh than he’d meant to, wincing almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth.

Mercifully, Kyoko gave up. “What a shame. That would have been quite the piece of gossip.”

“So when are you having a rematch with Viktor?” asked Ayame, steering the conversation to a new topic effortlessly. “It would be interesting to see if you can beat him a second time! He was the best, after all, before you came along.”

 _Before you came along._ The words made Yuuri feel proud and guilty at the same time. Proud because he’d worked hard for this for years, and ashamed because his victory had tarnished Viktor’s, his idol’s, once undefeatable might.

“I’ll meet him again at the World Championships in March.”

Kyoko’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Isn’t that being held in Japan this year? You’ll have the homefield advantage!”

Yuuri nodded, despite the fact that he thought the exact opposite. “It’ll be held in Yoyogi.”

Ayame clapped excitedly, bouncing around in her seat once again. “We’ll definitely be there to witness the great clash of the titans, Yuuri and Viktor!”

Yuuri struggled with a grimace, hearing the translation of Ayame’s words clearly in his head and not liking it one bit. He and Viktor weren’t a spectacle to be leered at and awed over, despite the fact he’d done that very thing to Viktor many times in the past. The idea of it now though, smothered in popularity as it was, made him feel sick to his stomach..

“Thank you,” he said quietly, wringing his hands together. “Ice skating isn’t as popular as football or baseball, so it’s always nice to know new people are interested in it.”

“Speaking of which,” Kyoko slid in, “after the break, we’re planning on having the audience ask Yuuri some questions. So sit tight everybody!”

She smiled at the camera, holding the pose for a few seconds until the camera signaled cut before she relaxed into her seat with a sigh.

“Break time!” exclaimed Ayame joyfully, stretching lazily in place. She turned to the audience. “The show will resume in a few minutes, so enjoy the break while you can!”

“Yuuri-san,” said Kyoko quietly, a small smile on her face. “Would you like something to drink?”

Yuuri nodded. “I wouldn’t mind drinking a bit of water.”

An assistant came onto the stage as if summoned by a spell, balancing a large serving tray with three cups on one hand and carrying a jug of water in the other. He set the tray down and poured some water into each cup. Then, with a bow, he headed back out of sight.

The break was spent quietly. Yuuri sipped at his water, occasionally chiming in as the two hosts discussed how many questions they should take for the next part of the show. Yuuri didn’t mind taking however many questions they wanted, but was more nervous about the content of them. Just as Ayame reassured him that, if he truly felt the need to, he could skip a question, Kyoko put her hand to her ear.

“Break time’s over,” she announced, straightening her back and brushing off her skirt. “Get ready.”

Yuuri barely had the time to set his glass down before the lights were brightening and Ayame’s beaming smile was back.

“Welcome back, everyone! Ayame and Kyoko here with figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, and it’s time for a little Q and A. But first, I’ve got a little treat for the audience.”

Yuuri could hear the audience in question getting interested, making a little more noise than usual.

“We all know Yuuri is an amazing figure skater, the Grand Prix champion this year and hopefully for the years to come,” Ayame continued, “but we haven’t seen him in action yet. So I got my hands on this short video that we are going to see…” The screen behind her flickered briefly, transitioning from the serene city scene to static. “... right…” The video started. “... now.”

Yuuri recognized it as a recording of himself, performing his free program for the Grand Prix Finals. He stood in the center of the rink, head bowed, arms out, and as the music started playing Yuuri began to move with dramatic, sweeping movements that carried him across the ice with ease.

Yuuri felt embarrassed watching it, turning his gaze out to the crowd. Everyone was watching attentively, and Yuuri could feel the expectation build up as his blue-clad form zoomed across the rink. Then, he performed his first jump - a triple Lutz - and the audience gasped, applause a slow crescendo.

Yuuri reddened as everyone started applauding enthusiastically at his quick step sequence, even the hosts, though they calmed down and watched eagerly as the Yuuri on the screen performed a layback spin, back arched unnaturally. Then he turned it into a proper spiral sequence by spinning on one leg, the other one raised high in the air, his two hands holding the foot so that the three limbs formed a circular shape while he spun. The two-handed Biellmann spiral was elegant, showing off his hard-won flexibility perfectly.

“Amazing!” exclaimed Ayame, completely enraptured with the performance.

Kyoko was silent, and even though her hand was discretely hiding her lips, Yuuri could see the hints of an awed smile.

When the video ended, everyone began to cheer, happy applause and excited exclamations.

Ayame clapped excitedly, a beaming smile on her face. “You looked beautiful, Yuuri-san!”

Yuuri gripped his knees tightly, trying to control his nerves. “Thank you, Ayame-san. That means a lot to me.” The look she gave him was so kind and maternal that for a second, he forgot all about his slight stage-fright.

It came crashing back when Kyoko announced the next part:

“Now that the audience has seen what Yuuri-san can do and is more familiar with him, we will allow some questions from our public to Yuuri-san.” She looked at Yuuri with one eyebrow raised. “If that is all right with you, of course.” The challenge in her tone was unmistakable, and despite the fact they had already agreed to it, Yuuri struggled to smother the instinct to run away.

Yuuri just answered with a firm nod, keeping his mouth shut.

“Perfect!” Ayame turned to the audience. “Now, who wants to go first?”

A few tentative hands were raised, but it most of the public stayed as it was.

“You, in red!” said Ayame, pointing at a young woman who was wearing a dark red sweater.

One of the assistants hurried over to the woman, who quickly stood up, and gave her a microphone to ask her question.

“Katsuki-san,” said the girl, “why do you skate backwards so much? Isn’t it better to skate forwards so you can see where you’re going?”

Kyoko nodded approvingly. “A very good question, one I’m curious to know the answer to as well.”

He almost sighed in relief that it wasn’t something personal. He could handle talking about the technical aspects of skating. “Most of the jumps and all of the spins need a backwards entrance,” explained Yuuri. “If I skate forwards, there’s a risk I might start digging into my toe pick by accident and that would make me fall. The blades on skates have a certain shape that makes it easier to go faster if you skate backwards.”

“Shouldn’t the blade be made differently, then?” asked Ayame. “It’s a bit silly if you’re forced to skate backwards all the time.”

Yuuri shrugged, an embarrassed grin spreading across his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s just how they’re made, I guess.”

“Next question!” announced Kyoko.

The woman in red handed the microphone back to the assistant while several members of the audience raised their hands.

“The man with the glasses,” said Kyoko, pointing at a person near the back.

The man in question was handed a microphone, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at Yuuri.

“Is it better for you to skate first on the ice rink? Because if you’re last, then there’ll be traces on the ice from all those that went before you and the surface might not be perfectly flat anymore.”

Yuuri smiled, surprised. The questions were a lot more respectful than he’d expected. He’d been told he would be harassed with invasive questions, but it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d been dreading.

“The ice is resurfaced after every two groups are done skating,” said Yuuri. “At a competition, even if you skate last, the traces in the ice from former skaters don’t affect your performance much. I like being the first or second of my group to skate, because then I’d be skating immediately after the warm-up session and I’d be better prepared.”

After that, there were a few more questions and some requests for some of Yuuri’s personal experiences. All in all, the talk show event went rather well.

When the questions ended and it was time to say goodbye, these were Ayame’s parting words:

“Oh, and since Yuuri-san is going to be skating in the Four Continents Championships, we hope _everyone_ in Japan will watch his performance.”

Yuuri turned green when he heard that last remark, already feeling the weight of their expectations on his shoulders.

-x-x-x-

Yuuri took the train back to Hasetsu. The talk show had been exhausting, and all he wanted to do was go home. He’d be able to soak in the hot springs for a little while, relax the muscles the interview had tensed up, and maybe even take Viktor out for a walk.

He was composing a text to his friend Pichit, a poorly disguised complaint of his sudden rise to fame, when his phone beeped.

 _An email?_ he tilted his head to the side, not recognizing the address. _Is this for another interview?_

He closed the chat window and opened his inbox.Yuuri clicked on the new message and began to read, eyes flicking along the text. With every word his eyes grew wider and wider in disbelief, until he couldn’t take it anymore and called his coach.

The phone rang four times before the man picked up.

“Hello!” Celestino greeted, accompanied by the quiet murmur of a television..

“I need your help, Celestino,” Yuuri said quickly, English flowing easily from his lips thanks to the years he’d spent in Detroit.

“Yuuri!” Celestino responded warmly. “How nice to hear from you. How’s victory treating you?”

“I got an email,” Yuuri continued, ignoring his coach’s question. “I got an offer for an endorsement deal! Viktor did it!”

“Viktor?” the coach echoed, baffled. “Isn’t that your dog?”

“No!” exclaimed Yuuri, rolling his eyes, still wholly focused on the email he’d received. “Viktor, as in Viktor Nikiforov!”

“Calm down, Yuuri.” The rumble of the television vanished. “There must’ve been a mistake. An offer for an endorsement deal is usually made by a firm or a brand to an athlete. And Viktor is neither a firm nor a brand, so he can’t be sending you an offer like that.”

“No, no, no.”  Yuuri shook his head, despite the fact the man on the other end of the line couldn’t see. He felt the urge to facepalm at the misunderstanding. “Pios sent the request. But at the Grand Prix Finals, when I was talking to Viktor, he told me he’d ask the brand he works with to send me an offer to endorse their products. And he did it! Pios just emailed me!”

“But that’s great!” proclaimed Celestino. “This’ll do your image a lot of good, and give you more career opportunities.”

Yuuri frowned. “That’s the problem. I don’t _want_ to do it. I want to focus on being with my family more, and taking ballet classes and getting ready for competitions. It’s the middle of the season! I can’t get distracted with endorsement contracts now, and I don’t want to be.”

“Those are good reasons,” Celestino conceded, “but you have to think a little further than that. Yuuri, most athletes use endorsement as a way to supplement their income. As long as you keep winning gold medals you’ll be fine, but as soon as you start getting too old to skate, you’ll be done for. Every sportsman has to face this reality. That’s why you see soccer players and basketball endorsing various products. There are a lot of athletes who continue endorsing products even after they’ve retired from their sport, and they make a lot of money out of that.”

“I don’t need money,” said Yuuri. “I skate because I like it, not because I want to be rich.”

Celestino tutted, and he could imagine him shaking his head as he always did when he thought Yuuri was saying something stupid. “Boy, you may not want to be rich, but you’ll want to support your family when you have a wife and kids. Maybe you’ll be happy at a desk job somewhere after you’ve gotten too old to skate competitively, but if you want to live comfortably and take care of whoever you’ve settled down with, then getting an endorsement contract is a very good idea. You want to be friendly with brands and help them out now, so that when you’ve retired they’ll be the ones returning the favour.”

Supporting his family?

Yuuri tried to imagine it. Two kids, a boy and a girl, and a kind wife who could cook pork cutlet bowls. She would be a talented woman and a confident, graceful person that would be able to skate with him and would encourage their children to learn skating as well. He could see it. He’d be holding her hands while they were skating on an ice rink. She would have long, pale hair with blue eyes and she would skate beautifully…

… like Viktor did

Suddenly, the image of his fictional wife was replaced with Viktor, long-haired just as he had been in the Junior World Championship that had been held in Bulgaria. It was the young Viktor Yuuri had seen for the first time, the one that had truly awakened his love for skating.

“Yuuri? Are you there?” Celestino came into focus, increasingly loud in his ears.

Yuuri shook his head violently, trying to push the image of him skating with Viktor, _holding hands with Viktor,_ out of his mind.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Good! I was worried for a moment there. So, will you be needing any help with this? Normally a manager would take care of it, but since you don’t have one yet… I could just read it over and then tell you if it seems good or not, so you can know more before you decide if you want to do this.”

The loudspeakers announced the next stop, Hasetsu.

Eager to leave, Yuuri stood up. “You’d do that? I don’t really know a lot about the legal details of all of this.”

Celestino laughed warmly. “Yuuri, you’re not the first who has asked me for help. Most of the people I teach don’t have managers because of the expense. I’ve often had to step in and help out. I’m not an expert, but I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll forward the email to you, then.”

“Yuuri?”

He shouldered his bag, straightening his glasses as the train groaned to a stop. “Yes?”

“Please think about it, Yuuri. The occasion to advertise for such an influential brand might never come again.”

Yuuri paused, gripping his phone tightly and looking down at the floor.

_You should sign up with Pios! I’ll talk to them to get you signed up with them, that way we could do an advert together._

Would he? Yuuri stayed in place, mind racing.

_Your first time could be with me._

Yuuri blushed, Viktor’s words still engraved in his mind.

“I’ll think about it,” Yuuri finally said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set this story as 'Explicit', despite the only explicit content being in the very last chapter of this fic. I kind of feel like this is false advertising, and people who come for that explicit content will be unhappy because everything but the last chapter will be teen-rated content. Should I change the rating to something lower and only put the Explicit rating back when the explicit content appears? Yet at the same time, if there's a lower rating, people might read the story but they'd feel deceived when the rating changes later. I don't quite know if I should change the rating or not, so if you people have any advice I'd be very happy to hear it.
> 
> Also, I'd like to thank Calloniel for editing this chapter. English isn't my maternal language so I sometimes sound a bit stiff and formal in my writing and I'd like to thank Calloniel for her hard work. Hopefully I can get her to edit chapter 1 too.
> 
> EDIT: An anonymous comment from someone called 'Zel' helped me with some skating facts that I'd gotten wrong. Clearly my research wasn't as extensive as I would have hoped, so thanks for the help!


	3. Conquest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was my birthday yesterday! Turned 21. :)
> 
> And I spent today celebrating with friends that are fellow YOI fans. We all went ice-skating.
> 
> and I don't get why everyone is so panicked over the end of episode 11? I mean, they're convinced the situation is critical, but I'm pretty confident it's just drama and Vikturi will prevail. I don't have an ounce of worry because I know the cliffhanger will end in a happy ending.
> 
> I also had to edit chapter one to say that they skipped hte banquet in favour of going to a restaurant, since I discovered about the banquet scene after writing chapter one.
> 
> Oh, and my next chapter might not be out before a while because I have all my exams in January and I'll be devoting the rest of this month to revisions.

.

.

.

Yuuri was walking his dog in one of Hasetsu’s parks when suddenly his phone began ringing very loudly. His dog barked, standing up on his back legs and pawing at Yuuri’s pocket.

“I’ve got it,” he said, pushing Vicchan back down.

He brought his phone out, took a second to look at the name on the screen and then accepted the call.

“Hey Phichit,” he said, seamlessly switching to English.

 _“Hello!”_ answered his friend, tone cheerful. _“I just talked with Ciao Ciao and he told me you’re going to endorse Pios! That’s really amazing, Yuuri. Why didn’t you tell me?”_

Yuuri ran his fingers through Vicchan’s fur, scratching along the dog’s neck. “I only got the email yesterday. I’ve been busy catching up with my family and childhood friends.” He frowned. “And I’m not even sure I’m going to endorse their products at all.”

_“Why not? I’d kill to have such a famous brand willing to sign a contract with me. Did you know they have Viktor Nikiforov endorsing them?”_

Realizing this conversation might end up quite long, Yuuri tugged his dog towards a nearby bench.

“Of course I know,” he said, “I read about it years ago in—”

 _“Riiiight, yeah. Viktor’s number one fanboy. I totally forgot ‘bout your obsession for a second.”_ Phichit laughed.

Reddening, Yuuri sat down on the bench. “I’m not obsessed! He inspired me to become a skater—”

_“More like inspires your wet dreams~”_

“Phichit, can you please be serious for a moment?”

His dog sat down in front of him and lay his head on Yuuri’s thighs, looking up at Yuuri with worried eyes. Yuuri didn’t often speak with such a severe tone, and Vicchan could clearly sense something was wrong. To reassure his poodle, Yuuri began rubbing the side of Vicchan’s head. The dog’s tail started wagging almost immediately.

_“Sorry. If you reacted less, it wouldn’t be as funny and I wouldn’t tease you as much, you know?”_

Yuuri sighed. “I know you think it’s funny, but it can be annoying. So please tone it down.”

 _“It’s just that if you sign with Pios they might have you do an advert with Viktor, since you’re both skaters,”_ explained Phichit. _“And with what Chris Giacometti said about how Viktor behaved with you after the Grand Prix Final_ _—_ _”_

“What do you mean?” asked Yuuri, his hand stilling on his dog’s head.

 _“Well…”_ said Phichit, hesitant. _“There was this interview with Chris, and he said that after you won gold, you and Chris and Viktor and another one of the skaters… the Chinese one, I think? Anyway, he said that you all skipped the banquet to go to some Russian restaurant, and apparently Viktor got really flirty with you or something_ _—_ _”_

Yuuri spluttered. His poodle startled, surprised by the sudden noise.

 _“_ _—_ _so I’m thinking it could be interesting if you’re both endorsing the same brand. I mean, judging by how often you talk about Viktor, I figure signing that contract with Pios could give you the opportunity to maybe get to know Viktor a bit better.”_

“Even if I do sign the contract, there’s no guarantee I’ll be doing an advertisement with Viktor.”

The excuse sounded weak even to Yuuri. It didn’t help that he was remembering Viktor’s words from that evening in Sochi:

_I’ll talk to them to get you signed up with them, that way we could do an advert together._

He hadn’t taken Viktor’s statement seriously at the time, blaming it on the alcohol.

 _“Why else would they want to hire you?”_ asked Phichit, sounding genuinely confused. _“They already have a figure skater endorsing their stuff, so if they have enough money to hire another athlete, they’d hire a tennis player or a basketball player to endorse some of their other sports products. Viktor is already endorsing all of Pios’ skating products, so the brand doesn’t really need a second skater to work for them unless they’re planning on firing Viktor, which would be a dumb move. So obviously they’re thinking of having you and Viktor together in ads. Two GPF winners skating together looks better than one person skating alone.”_

“You’re really invested in this, aren’t you?” asked Yuuri softly. “You sound as excited as if you received that proposal instead of me.”

Phichit laughed. _“Can you blame me? Getting a brand to notice you like that is a sign that you’ve made it, that you’re popular. Not everyone is interested in endorsing, but even if someone isn’t interested, they still know it’s a good thing when companies want you in their ads.”_ Making a sound of excitement, Phichit continued, _“And isn’t it cool? Pios is the first brand to notice you! You couldn’t have done better if it was Nike or Adidas! Ahh, my little Yuuri is becoming a star!”_

Yuuri snorted, petting Vicchan in a distracted way. The dog’s tail was wagging furiously, happy to have his master back after Yuuri had spent most of his time in Detroit training with his coach and other skaters. While Detroit held fond memories of meeting Phichit and countless other kind people, Yuuri was glad to have returned to Japan to see his family, his childhood friends and of course his dog, Vicchan.

“I’m sure you’ll be overtaking me any day now,” he said reassuringly. “With those great jumps of yours, I bet you’ll be the one winning gold next season.”

 _“Wow,”_ responded Phichit. _“Victory sure has changed you, huh? Where are all these social skills coming from? Are all those interviews and talkshows teaching you how to please people?”_

Yuuri shifted in place, biting the side of his cheek. “I was just being nice,” he defended himself.

 _“I know that,”_ said Phichit, _“but a month ago you could barely deal with getting compliments without going completely red and mumbling. But now you’re handling stuff much better than you used to. I think you’re popularity is doing you some good.”_

Yuuri smiled. “Thank you.”

_“Oh and by the way, how’s training going? You nervous about the Four Continents Championship?”_

Vicchan was nearly falling asleep. The lack of activity and the way he was half laying on Yuuri’s lap had the dog yawning and closing his eyes. Yuuri ran his fingers down the dog’s side, brushing through any tangles he found. His dog was getting a bit old and age had sapped a lot of the energy of his youth. Yuuri feared the day his dog would succumb to old age. Just last month Vicchan had been taken to the vet for a check-up after he’d exhibited worrying symptoms, though luckily he’d made it out fine.

“It’s been going well,” said Yuuri. “But I’m a bit worried about the competition. I’m pretty sure Jean-Jacques Leroy will be competing too and he’s really strong.”

 _“He’s the Canadian skater, right?”_ asked Phichit. _“The one who ended up in fourth place at the Grand Prix Finals?”_

Yuuri nodded, though a second later he remembered he was on the phone and Phichit couldn’t see him, so he said, “Yeah. Apparently he got a small injury a few days before the competition. It healed, but without it he might have had a better score. He’ll be hard to beat at the Four Continents.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Phichit scoffed. Loudly. _“Are you making a joke? You beat Viktor Nikiforov at the GPF! You beat the best of the best and you’re worried about someone who made fourth place? Yuuri, I know you’re self-confidence isn’t great, but trust me when I tell you that you’ll be awesome.”_

Yuuri could feel himself smiling, fondness welling up inside of him. Every day, he was thankful he’d met Phichit. The young man always knew what to say and when to say it, a skill Yuuri tended to lack more often than not.

“I can’t wait to see you back in Detroit,” said Yuuri, voice warm. “I missed training with you.”

 _“It’s weird to train without you,”_ agreed Phichit, _“but at least Ciao Ciao gives me more attention than he used without you there to take up all his time.”_

Yuuri rolled his eyes with a smile. “Celestino’s my personal coach. But if you’re seeing him even more, then I hope you’ll have something to show for it when I get back.”

_“You bet! I’ve been working on my stamina so I can get better jumps at the end of my routine.”_

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Yuuri’s dog began to whine. Leaning forward to let the dog snuggle against the side of his face, Yuuri gave a little _shhhh_ to calm Vicchan.

“Listen,” he told Phichit, “I have to do something right now. How about we talk later?”

_“Sure! Have a great day! Or is it night for you?”_

Yuuri looked at the horizon, where a few barely noticeable rays of sunshine were still visible.

“It’s early evening here. What time is it with you?”

Phichit gave a nervous laugh. _“Technically it’s early?”_

It took a second for Yuuri to realize. “Do you mean  you’re awake in the middle of the night? The time difference is what, fourteen hours? Are you still awake at four in the morning? Phichit, you have take care of yourself more.” His tone was full of worry.

 _“Hey, I’m a grown man,”_ protested Phichit. “ _I can go to bed when I want.”_

Snorting, Yuuri stood up from the bench. “Not when you’ll be falling asleep on the rink tomorrow. You shouldn’t be calling me now — go to sleep.”

Phichit whined. Even without being able to see Phichit, Yuuri could tell the noise was faked in order to make him back down.

 _“When did you get so assertive, Yuuri?”_ asked Phichit. _“You’re acting like my mother.”_

“Go to sleep, Phichit. And turn off your computer too. You need to be ready for class.”

 _“So fussy,”_ complained Phichit, though there was no heat behind his words. _“See ya.”_

“Bye.”

Yuuri hung up and put his phone back in his pocket. Vicchan started wagging his tail again, knowing he’d finally be able to resume his walk.

Yawning, Yuuri took a look around the park, noticing how empty it was. The sun was nearly gone, and by now most people would be at home instead of out in the cold.

He gripped Vicchan’s leash tighter and said, “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”

Vicchan barked, rubbing up against Yuuri’s legs before pulling Yuuri towards the entrance of the park. Yuuri followed at a slow pace, sometimes pulling his dog away from distractions. If Vicchan found an interesting scent, he could spend an eternity inspecting it, which Yuuri wasn’t willing to wait around for at the moment.

As they walked home, Yuuri took the time to think about the offer Pios had made. It was, as Celestino and Phichit had both told him, a very interesting offer for an athlete that had only won gold once, where there were better athletes to choose from. Granted, Pios hadn’t mentioned how much they might pay him so their offer would be much less tempting if the amount of money offered was too low for Yuuri to accept. Yuuri was new at this and didn’t even have a manager to handle the details for him, so it was possible Pios might try to take advantage and underpay him.

It didn’t matter. Yuuri trusted Celestino to handle the situation.

What _did_ worry Yuuri, however, was the issue of time.

He wasn’t a genius when it came to ice skating and he compensated by working harder and for a longer amount of time. He didn’t have much free time left. As it was, he struggled to juggle practice hours, his studies and keeping in contact with friends and family. If he added an endorsement deal on top of that, he’d end up burnt out very quickly.

Accepting to endorse Pios was a great career opportunity, but did Yuuri even have the time to spare?

Yuuri groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and Vicchan stopped, looking up at his master inquisitively.

They were in the middle of a street in the residential area, full of beautiful houses with pristine gardens. Yuuri knew, without having to check, that most people living in those houses were probably elderly. Hasetsu’s population was growing older every year, with young people leaving for the city in increasingly large numbers. Tourism wasn’t as great as it once was, and Yuuri knew his parents were genuinely worried about perhaps needing to close their business if things didn’t get better.

One positive thing Yuuri’s victory at the Grand Prix Final had brought was the fact that tourism in Hasetsu had improved lately, something Minako-sensei and his mother had told him about yesterday. When he’d arrived, he’d noticed the difference too, with a lot more people in souvenir shops or in front of monuments. Hasetsu’s population was still declining dangerously, but at least business had improved a bit.

Yuuri hadn’t even known about how bad things had been going. After all, he’d been gone for five years, and before leaving Japan all he’d noticed was that a lot of businesses in Hasetsu had been forced to close down throughout his childhood. He hadn’t even worried about his family, sure something like that Would never happen to Yutopia. It was only yesterday when he’d spoken with his father that the man had admitted how glad he was that Yuuri had won the Grand Prix, thus increasing global interest in Hasetsu, the hometown of a gold-medalist. The man had told Yuuri that if things had continued as they had, he would’ve had to close down the business in a few years to avoid crippling debt. Now the business was apparently doing very well.

Yay.

Yuuri sighed, feeling increasingly guilty. He’d gone to Detroit without thinking much about his family, and had abandoned them to a bad situation. If he’d been a better son, he would have stayed with them to put their needs before his and help with the business. But his dreams had taken precedence. Yuuri didn’t regret it - figure skating was everything to him, and he would have been miserable doing anything else. But he still felt guilty knowing his sister had let go of her dreams of studying at a university in Tokyo just to help with the family business.

And now, there was a possibility for signing a contract to endorse Pios products. It would eat up even more of his time, making it harder for him to visit his family. But at the same time, extra money couldn’t hurt. He could use it to help his parents if the situation worsened.

Choices, choices…

-x-x-x-

Yuuri’s victory at the Four Continents Championship felt almost… uneventful. And how could it not be? He’d won at the Grand Prix Final against Viktor Nikoforov, the world champion. Next to that, the Four Continents Championship didn’t count for much, especially considering Europeans weren’t allowed to attend. At this point, only a competition with Viktor in it would manage to make Yuuri’s anxiety appear.

However, if there was one notable thing to say about the Four Continents Championship, it was the fact that winning gold for the second time in a row had really bolstered Yuuri’s self-confidence, which came in handy today as Yuuri watched yet another one of the competitors of the World Championship perform their free program.

There were only twenty-four skaters performing their free program out of the thirty that had been there at the beginning of the competition. Six skaters hadn’t been allowed to continue after the short program, while those that had been qualified were performing today.

Yuuri was among those that had passed. Unlike the Grand Prix Final, he’d ended up in second place for the short program, and was now hoping that his performance for the free program would help him obtain enough points to win a gold medal. It helped that this competition was held in Japan, Yuuri’s home country. Knowing he was so close to Hasetsu gave him a boost of confidence.

“Nervous?” asked Celestino, coming up next to Yuuri to also watch the screen showing the latest skater, a Swedish man with a lot of talent for sophisticated spins, perform his program.

“A little,” admitted Yuuri. He’d been much more anxious a few hours ago, but a video call to his family had helped settle his nerves. Seeing his sister holding Vicchan up towards the laptop camera for him to see and seeing his parents’ proud smiles had really helped him feel better.

Celestino put an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Just remember to focus on your technique. You have a lot of endurance so you don’t need to pace yourself as much as other skaters, so focus on keeping your technique flawless. You won gold at the GPF and the Four Continents, and I _know_ you can win here too.”

Yuuri gave a small smile. “Thanks, coach.” The man’s fatherly behaviour never ceased to endear him to Yuuri.

Celestino squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder one last time before letting go and taking a step back. “Sorry, but I need to go to the restroom. Don’t worry — I’ll be back well before it’s your turn, so I won’t miss your performance.”

Yuuri nodded. “You don’t need to hurry. I’m one of the last ones who’ll be skating anyway, so you have time.”

With a thumbs up aimed at Yuuri, Celestino left.

Alone once more, Yuuri focused on the screen, ignoring the strangers around him in favour of analyzing the performance of the Swedish skater, who seemed to be doing badly. The man had already fallen once, and though he’d continued on admirably, he’d made enough mistakes for Yuuri to know he wouldn’t end up anywhere near the top three.

Usually, Yuuri avoided watching his competitors skate because it only served to make him anxious, but ever since the Grand Prix Final, it seemed he had found some measure of inner peace and confidence that had been missing until then.

His anxiety wasn’t gone and he doubted he would ever completely overcome it, but it _had_ notably diminished.

Just as the scores of the Swedish man appeared on the screen, two arms wrapped themselves around Yuuri’s waist in a hug from behind.

“Yuuri~~”

Nuzzling against Yuuri’s cheek, Viktor smiled widely.

As soon as he heard the familiar voice, Yuuri’s eyes widened and he tensed up.

“V-Viktor?!” he exclaimed, trying to pull himself out of the man’s grip before he combusted from the breach of personal space. Unfortunately, Viktor’s arms were as hard as steel, and the man himself didn’t seem inclined to let go. “What are you doing?!”

“I came to congratulate you on your short program! It was very impressive,” the man purred, making Yuuri turn even redder.

“It wasn’t that good,” answered Yuuri, nervously trying to extricate himself from the hug. ”I only ended up in second place. Y-you did much better.” Embarrassed by his stutter, he took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm his anxiety.

Viktor let go of him and Yuuri stumbled forward, glad to be free, only to nearly have a heart attack when Viktor just grasped Yuuri’s shoulder to forcefully spin him around until they were face to face. Viktor leaned in, his face centimeters away from Yuuri’s.

“I upgraded my routines since the Grand Prix, Yuuri, so I’ll be expecting you to do your best with your free skate to beat me, okay?”

Viktor’s eyes were… very blue. And very, very close.

“O-okay.”

Viktor beamed, his whole face lighting up like the sun.

He leaned back with a happy sigh, looking Yuuri over. “Ever since I got that gold medal, I’ve been practicing for the moment we’d be competitors again. I hope you’ll make me work for that medal again.”

When Yuuri didn’t say anything in response, Viktor clapped his hands excitedly, unfazed by Yuuri’s lack of enthusiasm, and changed the subject:

“So, have you received a letter from Pios yet?”

Yuuri blinked. “You mean the email? Yes, I did.”

Viktor’s smile widened. “Wonderful! Have you already signed the contract?”

“Uhhh… no?” Yuuri’s voice cracked a bit at the end and Viktor’s face fell.

 _“What?_ Why not? Are you still discussing fees and other details with them?”

Yuuri’s figure had grown hunched and he was shying away from Viktor, unwilling to face the man’s disappointment. “No… I had my coach talk with them to see what they were willing to offer, and they are being very generous, but I don’t think it’s my kind of thing. I’ll probably call them to turn down their offer in a few days, when I have more time.”

The look of devastation on Viktor’s face made Yuuri wince. He hadn’t known Viktor would care _that_ much.

“But _why?_ I talked to Pios and I told them they should give you favourable rates and and compensation! Why would you turn something like that down?”

Yuuri squirmed under Viktor’s intense gaze.

“I… I just don’t think it’s that interesting? And I’d rather spend my time skating and training?” The fact that it sounded more like a question than a confident declaration didn’t help his case.

“But it’d be so interesting! I even asked them if we could film a commercial together and they said yes!”

The idea of filming an advertisement with his idol made Yuuri’s face blanch.

“I’d rather not.”

Yuuri turned to focus on the screen showing the ongoing competition, blatantly showing his desire to end the conversation.

“Come on! It’ll be so much fun! They pay super well, and I could help you with some of those moves that were causing you trouble in your short program.”

Yuuri shook his head, uncomfortable with Viktor’s persistence. “... No.”

 _“Pleeeease?_ I had to work hard to convince Pios this would be a good idea. And didn’t you say you wanted an endorsement deal, that evening after the Grand Prix?”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Do. It,” said Yuuri, irritation beginning to shine through.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pleeeease? For me?” The man pouted, batting his eyelashes.

“No!”

Yuuri tried to focus on the screen, but Viktor was being too distracting.

“Please do it?”

“No!”

But Viktor refused to let it go. He continued needling Yuuri, continuously harassing the young man despite the repeated refusals until…

“Please sign that contract?”

“Okay, I’ll do it!! Just leave me alone!” Yuuri shouted, his temper getting the best of him.

Immediately after, his eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at how rude he’d been to _Viktor Nikiforov_ of all people.

And then he realized what he’d just said, and turned to Viktor, who was wearing quite the smug smile.

The man gave a wave. “Okay, Yuuri, see you for that joint advertisement!”

Yuuri watched Viktor walk away, mind blank with the knowledge that Viktor had just shamelessly manipulated him into saying yes.

Sliding down to the grown, Yuuri’s shoulders slumped.

“Ughhh…” he groaned.

“Yuuri?” asked a voice.

Yuuri looked up and saw a worried-looking Celestino.

“What are you doing on the floor?” asked the man, eyebrows raised.

Yuuri just shrugged helplessly.


	4. Success

.

.

.

Yuuri’s program was performed splendidly. He skated with grace, pushing his endurance to its limit with impressive figures. His jumps weren’t as good as Viktor’s, but he was relying on his spins and fast paced step sequences to make up for it, as well as his superior endurance.

The song for his program was nearly entirely instrumental, a mix of violin and piano that created a song with a sense of urgency. From time to time came a soprano voice, singing about her search for perfection in French.

Originally, the song was meant to be about finding perfect love, but the lyrics were vague enough for it to work as a song about Yuuri’s desire to skate flawlessly and win.

Yuuri’s program had been modified since the Grand Prix Final with Celestino’s help. Yuuri’s victory in December meant Viktor was very likely to have decided to step it up. It only made sense for Yuuri to react appropriately to ensure he’d get that gold medal again.

_ Viktor, _ he thought, spinning around on the ice, deaf to the noise from the crowd,  _ are you watching me? _

His spin ended up having more than the required number of revolutions, something Celestino had encouraged him to do for additional points.

The next part was harder, with an axel coming up. He didn’t always manage it during training and if he failed it now, Viktor’s victory was assured.

Yuuri’s heart was beating fast as he skated towards the end of the rink, arms undulating with the music. His eyes searched the crowd, but without his glasses he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

_ Do you see me? _

He jumped.

The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion. Yuuri’s skates left the ice and he spun, expression serene despite his tiredness and then…

He landed  _ wrong _ .

Yuuri didn’t fall, thankfully, but for a second he lost his balance as he landed half a rotation early and it was only through sheer luck that he managed to stay upright.

He could hear the gasps of the crowd and his face  _ burned  _ with the knowledge of what his failure might cost him.

_ It’s okay. Everything’s fine. I can still make it. _

But his confidence was shaken.

His legs moved at a brisk pace while he danced across the ice to the fast-paced last notes of the song. He twirled one last time and stopped, head canted to the side and arms open like a ballerina.

He was breathing rather heavily, beyond nervous about his score. He hoped he’d been good enough, but knew deep down that his mistake had probably cost him that first place.

The roar of the crowd was what brought him out of it, his head raising in surprise when he heard the numerous whistles and loud clapping from the crowd. Bouquets were being thrown towards him and despite the anxiety eating at his heart, he couldn’t help letting a shy smile escape.

These people weren’t disappointed. Despite his flawed performance, they were still impressed.

Yuuri waved at them and then turned his gaze to the ice. Without his glasses he had a hard time seeing what was far from him, but his sight wasn’t impaired to the point that he couldn’t see the gifts that had been thrown at him. He picked up the most eye-catching bouquet - a selection of blue roses - and made his way towards the kiss and cry.

As soon as he was off the ice, Celestino wrapped an arm around him and gave a small squeeze.

They sat down, Yuuri being careful not to crush the bouquet in his grasp, and waited for the score.

Yuuri was somewhat thankful that Viktor hadn’t been on the ice yet. Skating after the man would have made Yuuri look worse by comparison.

When the scores finally appeared, Yuuri squinted, but without his glasses he just couldn’t read anything. The reaction of the crowd was positive, though, and he could hear the announcers saying he was currently in first place. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean much when Viktor hadn’t done his free skate yet.

Celestino tightened his arm around Yuuri and leaned in to whisper:

“If he makes a mistake, you can still win gold.”

Yuuri’s shoulders dropped.

“He won’t.”

-x-x-x-

Yuuri was proved right when Viktor broke his personal record. Not only had the man upped the difficulty level of his program, but he’d also skated with much more conviction and emotion than ever before, making all of his previous performances seem bland and emotionless by comparison.

That left Yuuri in second place which, while impressive, felt like less of an achievement when Yuuri already knew what it felt like to beat Viktor.

Viktor Nikiforov had regained his title as best figure skater and all was right once again.

Yuuri’s shoulders slumped as he stared at his phone. The news article with the image of a smiling Viktor holding up a gold medal mocked Yuuri.

It was likely through sheer luck that Yuuri won at the Grand Prix. Yuuri must have been delusional to think he was capable of winning once again.

Yuuri could feel the progression of his nerves as they practically ate him alive. The competition was over and yet the anxiety was still devouring him from the inside. He was so patheti—

_ “There  _ you are!”

Startled, Yuuri raised his eyes and met Viktor’s beaming face. The man was wearing casual clothes and was holding his lit-up phone. He turned his phone off and put it in his pocket as he stepped towards Yuuri.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” exclaimed Viktor.

Yuuri’s eyebrows shot up. “You have?” he asked, full of confusion.

Wrinkles appeared at the corners of Viktor’s eyes as he smiled. “Of course! Did you like my bouquet?”

Distracted by the man’s dimples, it took a moment for Yuuri to understand the question.

“Bouquet?” he repeated with a frown.

Viktor nodded. “The blue roses,” he explained patiently.

Yuuri blinked. “Oh.” Then, with a blush: “That was  _ you?” _

“Of course. Didn’t you notice when I threw it?”

Viktor sat down on the sofa next to Yuuri, looking around where other clients of the hotel were mingling and talking. At this time of the day there were quite a lot of people, mostly businessmen or with a few people on vacation.

Yuuri leaned back in his place, feeling strangely relaxed by the presence of his idol. Anxiety forgotten, his tense muscles eased up.

“My eyesight isn’t great without my glasses,” admitted Yuuri, self-consciously raising his hand to touch his glasses with the tip of his finger.

Viktor hummed and said nothing more, appearing content to bask in the silence.

Yuuri fidgeted as the pause in their conversation grew, until there came a point where the silence felt so awkward that Yuuri tried desperately to think of something to say.

“Congratulations, by the way!” was what he finally blurted out.

Viktor turned towards him, one eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

“On winning first place,” Yuuri explained. “Congratulations.”

“Ah.” Viktor smiled. This time, there were no crow’s feet or dimples that appeared along with the expression. “Thank you. Congratulations on your silver medal.” With that last sentence, Viktor’s smile grew and his eyes mirrored the expression. “Your free skate was captivating.”

Yuuri reddened, and his heart sang with quiet joy at the idea of Viktor watching and  _ appreciating  _ his skating.

“... Though you really need to work on your technique more,” continued Viktor, blind to the way Yuuri’s expression tensed with surprise. “Your ending was sloppy.”

“Ah,” said Yuuri, scratching the side of his neck. “I don’t always get that part right during training sessions. I guess I just wasn’t very lucky today…”

Viktor waved the words away with a roll of his eyes. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You should only rely on your abilities to win because luck isn’t a sure thing.”

One part of Yuuri wanted to meekly accept what his idol told him, but another part, the part that had won at Sochi and had triumphed over Viktor…

“You might be good enough to not need luck to win,” he said, feeling his eye twitch, “but I’m not.”

To his credit, Viktor seemed to realize he’d offended Yuuri.

“I’m sorry,” said Viktor, his expression so comically panicked that it made Yuuri’s expression soften. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no! It’s fine!” exclaimed Yuuri, waving his hands to cut Viktor off. “No harm done.”

Viktor gave him a shy smile, and only then did Yuuri realize that he’d put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort. He ripped his hand away so fast the whole movement was a blur. He hid it behind his back, hoping Viktor wouldn’t say anything.

There was a pause.

“Err… did you want anything?” asked Yuuri, fidgeting in place.

Viktor blinked, and looked away from Yuuri’s face.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, retrieving a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his sweater. He handed it to Yuuri with a smile. “I thought this would be useful for you.”

Yuuri took the paper with a puzzled expression and unfolded it.

“It’s for when you’ll be negotiating with Pios,” said Viktor while Yuuri read the paper in silence. “I wrote down some details from my contract with them, like compensation, royalties, free products and so on. I also added some advice to help you when you’re negotiating with them.”

“... Thank you,” said Yuuri, touched. Then his eyes narrowed at some of the details on the paper. “Are you even allowed to give me this? Didn’t you have to sign a non-disclosure agreement when you signed a contract with Pios? Because some of this information doesn’t seem like the kind of details you should be giving me.” Yuuri wasn’t exactly an expert, but he was pretty sure an athlete was not meant to share every detail of their contract with other people.

Viktor’s eyes widened, his face the definition of cluelessness. “Non-disclosure agreement?” He frowned, thinking, and then shrugged. “Maybe. But as long as you don’t tell anyone, it’s fine, right?”

Split between feeling second hand embarrassment on Viktor’s behalf due to his cluelessness or just feeling thankful for the paper, Yuuri just gave Viktor a smile. “Thanks for the help.” He folded the paper and put it away.

Viktor beamed. “You’re welcome!”   
  


-x-x-x-

Returning to Detroit felt strange. All the other members of the skating association treated Yuuri as some sort of conquering hero despite him having only won a silver medal at World’s. He already felt bad because his silver medal was making him doubt the validity of his win at the Grand Prix, and the congratulations of his friends somehow just made him more anxious than happy.

So he dealt with it like he usually did — by hiding at the rink.

It was late in the evening, but Yuuri was still used to the Japanese timezone and didn’t feel very tired. He was performing his free skate program, desperate to patch up the issues that had cost him first place at Yoyogi.

Yuuri kept his mind blank as he skated, eyes half-lidded while he imagined his music playing, a large crowd watching and the atmosphere of the World Championship. Then, the moment came and he  _ jumped _ .

And, like at Yoyogi, Yuuri failed. And this time, he didn’t have the luck to catch himself in time — he fell on the ice, hands coming out to help him fall as painlessly as possible.

Instead of standing up to continue training, Yuuri stayed down on the ice, ignoring how cold it was becoming.

He looked at the ceiling, his mind going over every second of his performance at Yoyogi and what he could have done better. It was the kind of person he was — always nitpicking over the details, desperate for perfection.

“Yuuri… Why aren’t you out celebrating?”

The question had come from the other side of the rink, echoing throughout the building. Yuuri didn’t bother look. He already knew who it was.

“You know…” said Yuuri, eyes still on the ceiling. “Out of everyone, I expected Phichit to do this. Not you.”

“We’re not exactly best friends, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about your well-being.”

Yuuri turned and watched as Celestino stepped onto the ice in his normal, everyday shoes. The man was clearly nervous about falling, but he managed to walk towards Yuuri without a problem, despite not wearing any skates.

“Just because our relation is professional doesn’t mean it can’t be more,” continued Celestino.

Yuuri went completely red. Celestino frowned in confusion at Yuuri’s expression, before his eyes widened and he began backtracking furiously.

“I mean, friends! Just because I’m your coach doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, and I can’t check up on you to see if you’re all right! That’s what I meant! I wasn’t implying anything else!”

Yuuri just laughed off the awkwardness, all traces of negative emotion gone. This was one of the reasons why he got along with Celestino — they were both somewhat lacking in the area of social skills. The way Celestino sometimes fumbled with his words or said the wrong thing helped make him seem less imposing so Yuuri had an easier time relaxing around him.

When Celestino finally reached Yuuri, he didn’t sit down on the ice. Instead he stayed upright, looking around with the kind of false nonchalance that indicated just  _ how _ out of his depth the man felt.

Finally, Celestino began talking again: “You know, I was sure that gold medal at the GPF would’ve helped you with your self-esteem.” He put his hands in his pockets, still not looking at Yuuri. “And then you got another gold medal at the Four Continents, and then a silver at World’s.” He slowly shook his head. “It looked that way, for a while, but lately you’ve been looking really down.”

The cold from the ice was beginning to seep into Yuuri’s limbs, making him shiver, but he didn’t move.

“At the Grand Prix…” began Yuuri, “it felt amazing to know… that I’d beaten Viktor.”

The words came slowly, as if Yuuri had to physically rip them out. He didn’t like speaking about his feelings, especially when it came to describing his anxiety. He always felt bad when he worried over or failed at things everyone else had no trouble with. Talking about his troubles always felt like he was complaining about trivial things. But Celestino always did his best to understand, and never mocked Yuuri.

“But then,” Yuuri continued, “winning at Four Continents didn’t feel special because Viktor wasn’t there. So winning didn’t feel as” — He searched for the right word — “ _ unexpected _ as it did the first time.”

The first glimmers of comprehension were beginning to appear in Celestino’s eyes.

“You expected to beat Viktor at World’s?” Celestino asked. without even waiting for an answer, he continued, “That man is the best in the world for a reason, Yuuri. Just because you beat him once doesn’t mean he’ll give up. We  _ knew _ that, and I made you train so much more to prepare for World’s because we both knew Viktor would be working much harder for that gold medal.”

Yuuri shook his head. “That’s not it.” He sat up, and Celestino held out his hand. With a barely-audible thanks, Yuuri grabbed his coach’s hand and let himself be pulled up. For a second Celestino’s shoes seemed to slip on the ice, but the man managed to stay stable as Yuuri straightened next to him.

Celestino gently nudged Yuuri. “So what’s wrong?”

Shoulders slumping, Yuuri sighed. “I don’t know. That silver medal just makes me feel like beating Viktor at the GPF was a fluke, a mistake. I beat him and everyone was impressed, but then after World’s I’ve been hearing people say Viktor must’ve had an off-day and that’s the only reason I managed to get that gold medal.”

There was a pause.

Then, Celestino snorted. Surprised, Yuuri looked up at his coach, who looked beyond amused.

“A fluke?” the man repeated. He chuckled. “Of course, the only explanation you can think of is that you beat Viktor due to luck. It’s not like I didn’t call in half a dozen favours to get someone to help create the perfect program for you, and people to help you with your jumps and your stamina. It’s not like I haven’t been acting like a slave-driver for months to bring out the winner I’ve always known is in  _ you _ .” He punctuated the statement with poking Yuuri’s chest harshly.

Yuuri took a step back. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“I know you didn’t,” said Celestino. He looked at Yuuri, expression grave. “I know you don’t have a lot of self-confidence… But if you don’t believe you won this on your own merit, then believe you won it on mine.”

Yuuri laughed. Celestino was the first person to tell him to deal with his self-confidence issues by  _ circumventing  _ them, of all things. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. But—” Yuuri looked at Celestino, who seemed very proud he’d distracted Yuuri from his troubles “—do you have any idea how that  _ sounded?” _

Celestino slumped. “I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t want to imply you’re not worth anything.” Then he noticed Yuuri’s badly-hidden smile. “ _ Ha-ha, _ very funny. You know what I meant. Saying ‘believe in yourself’ never helps you no matter how many times I say it, so I’m trying new things, branching out my pep talk methods.”

“You must’ve missed your calling as a therapist.”

Celestino grinned. Teasing was always a sign of Yuuri’s good mood.

“I’d be happy only being your therapist.” He ruffled Yuuri’s hair. “I could add that to my contract. ‘Coach and personal therapist of Yuuri Katsuki’.”

“Speaking of contracts,” said Yuuri, “how’s it going with Pios?”

Celestino looked down at the ice and shook his head. “Let’s get off the ice first. I can’t have a conversation if I might slip at any moment.”

The left the ice and went to sit on one of the benches in the changing rooms. Yuuri just took his shoes off and relaxed on the bench, his socks getting wet from the puddles on the ground.

“Now that you’ve confirmed you’re interested,” said Celestino, “I’ve been able to discuss the finer details with Pios. I’ll need you to look at some things so you can tell me how you want the contract to be, but as it is I think I’ll be able to get you a pretty nice deal. That paper you gave me was helpful, so thank you for that.” He paused. “By the way, how did you get Nikiforov to give that to you? I didn’t know you two were friends.”

Yuuri had no idea how to answer that. “He’s a nice person.”

“Well, I hope you thanked him, because it was useful information.” Celestino took out his phone. “I’ve written down some details that I’d like to go over with you.”

They spent the next few minutes talking about royalties, free products, incentives, fixed fees and testing products. Celestino also explained to Yuuri that compensation would be one of the primary concerns, and although Celestino was the one discussing the future contract on Yuuri’s behalf, Yuuri still had to be involved and up to date so that Celestino knew what kind of contract he should get.

Yuuri was tired due to jet-lag, but he still spent nearly an hour talking with Celestino about indemnification clauses and various contract details and fees. Their discussion echoed throughout the empty changing room and the more they talked, the more relaxed Yuuri felt.

That night, Yuuri went to sleep with a smile on his face, all of his fears gone.

Unfortunately, his anxiety would come back in full force at the end of the month when, after having signed a contract with Pios, Yuuri would be on a flight to Sweden in order to record an advertisement with Viktor Nikiforov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be out yesterday, but this chapter was so hard to write that I ended up late. I made this rule for myself that I’d only update on Sundays (as long as a chapter has been written) so technically that means I should wait until next Sunday to post this, but I told some of my readers the chapter would be out by yesterday and making them wait any longer would just be rude.
> 
> This chapter was hard for me to write because it’s an in-between chapter that shows a transition from what’s been happening until now, to the actual advert being filmed. I really wanted to avoid making it boring and just writing about Yuuri and Celestino discussing contract details with Pios, so I cut out most of the boring stuff in favour of fluff and a scene with Viktor. :)
> 
> I hope you liked my take on Celestino. We don’t know much about him in canon so I was wondering how to write him when I realized it would be fun to make him a bit socially awkward like Yuuri. It would also explain why Celestino was so mean to kid!JJ instead of saying ‘no’ to the whole JJ-style thing in a more tactful way so as to not hurt JJ’s feelings. and I now have this personal headcanon of Celestino and Yuuri bonding in Detroit over their shared awkwardness and just being happy someone else gets it.
> 
> And when I wrote this:
> 
> « “I know you didn’t,” said Celestino. He looked at Yuuri, expression grave. “I know you don’t have a lot of self-confidence… But if you don’t believe you won this on your own merit, then believe you won it on mine.” »
> 
> For a second I thought I should take that bit out because the line was so good I imagined Viktor saying it instead. I totally wanted to edit the line out so I could write a quick canon-compliant oneshot with Viktor dealing with Yuuri’s insecurities before a competition by saying something like “Well, I’m awesome, and I coached you, so that makes you awesome by default. There, self-confidence issues solved.”
> 
> I can totally see Viktor saying that and the idea really amuses me, but right now I’m too tired from writing around 2K today out of guilt for being late for my normal updating day so I don’t have the energy to edit out Celestino’s line and re-write the conversation so things flow the same, just so I can use that line in a oneshot where Viktor says it. Though I might write that oneshot anyway, and just be a bit annoyed that I’m re-using a line from this fic (I prefer to come up with original stuff in every new story and not quote stuff, even if it’s from myself). If you guys are interested in such a oneshot, then feel free to speak up. I’m not sure if I’ll write it or not, but if people are interested then I’ll get to it.
> 
> Also, I aim to try and finish this story by the end of March. I am already planning my next YOI story and I have three different ideas. Since I have a hard time choosing, I’d like to let you guys tell me which idea you think is best:
> 
> 1) A Viktor/Yuuri fic which is both urban fantasy and mafia AU at the same time. Everything is still like in canon and the characters are still skaters, but there’s some urban fantasy and mafia stuff on top of it.  
> 2) A Viktor/Yuuri/Chris fic that starts out as a canon divergence and then goes on from there. It features a lot of jealousy before ending up in a three-person relationship.  
> 3) An Otabek/Yuri/JJ time travel fic with an unusual take on the time travel trope.
> 
> I plan to write them all at some point, but I have to decide which one to write first because I’d rather avoid writing them all at the same time. Having too many fanfics on my plate will just turn me into one of those authors who have over 20 on-going fics and have to abandon most of them because they can’t split their attention between so many fics and update regularly.
> 
> Out of the three ideas, number 1 and 3 are the ones for which I have the most detailed plans, meaning I will be able to start writing one of them immediately and not have to waste time making up the plot beforehand (and I always plan a story in detail before writing it). Number 1 and 2 will be over 60K when complete while number 3 should be around 50K when it’s done.
> 
> The three ideas are really original and haven’t been done in the YOI fandom before, so I’m keeping the description vague to keep it a surprise. But I’ve read a lot of YOI fics and I can guarantee that my three ideas are fresh and equally interesting. Tell me which one is the one you'd be most interested in seeing.


	5. Winning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this one, mostly because I never seemed to have much time to write. Certain parts were written in a rush because I really didn't want to make you guys wait any longer for this, so if you notice anything that seems wrong, please tell me.

.

.

.

After the contract was signed, things went very fast. Yuuri was emailed a short script for an advertisement he would take part in which, unsurprisingly, featured Viktor.

The advertisement would be filmed in Sweden, up North where it was still cold enough for there to be natural ice to skate on. According to the script, Viktor and Yuuri would be skating together across a frozen landscape. Then, after much hard work they would sit down to change their shoes, and Yuuri would reveal bruised feet. At that moment, Viktor would recommend Pios shoes to help Yuuri skate without hurting himself, showing off his Pios skates with a flourish.

The script was simple, but then again, advertisement was not meant to be overly complicated.

Yuuri read the details of the advertisement several times during his long flight to Stockholm. The advertisement was important, considering how much money Pios had paid to have Viktor and Yuuri in it, and to have it all filmed in such a far-away country. Yuuri had been told the advertisement would appear all over the world, not only the video clip but also in promotional posters. A lot of money had been invested in the venture.

Figure skating had not always been this popular. But with the arrival of Viktor, who’d won again and again, his victories shining brightly in sports news, and had managed his image so well that his face seemed to appear on every screen available, figure skating had been gaining in popularity for a decade now. And Pios wanted to cash in on that popularity.

It wasn’t surprising that they’d set their sights on Viktor Nikiforov, the man whose face and talent had made figure skating so popular. But Yuuri felt uneasy about being added to the equation.

He could understand that beating Viktor at the Grand Prix Final would have lowered Viktor’s worth to Pios. The crack in Viktor’s armour of perfection hadn’t been pretty, and Pios couldn’t afford to have a new skater outshine the athlete they’d invested time and money in. So instead, they’d decided to make a grab for Yuuri too, before another company could.

The idea of being filmed skating with Viktor was thrilling. Yuuri had always dreamed of skating on the same ice as Viktor, but he’d meant that in the sense of competing against the man. However, Yuuri couldn’t deny that the thought of skating with the man and spending time with him felt just as sweet.

-x-x-x-

When Yuuri arrived in Luleå, he was tired. He’d taken a plane to Stockholm and then another to Luleå, and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and the opportunity to change out of his clothes.

The weather in Luleå  was dark and stormy. It was cold, and he was glad he’d dressed in warm clothes.

An old man was there to welcome him, holding up a sign with _Yuri Katsuki_ written on it.

“Welcome to Sweden!” said the man in English. “My name is William. I will be your guide, and tomorrow I will accompany you to where we are filming.” His accent was thick, but understandable.

William took hold of Yuuri’s bag, which contained enough clothes and other necessities for the week Yuuri would be spending in Sweden, and they both headed towards the parking lot.

When they left the airport and arrived outside, a sudden gust of air made Yuuri shiver.

William laughed. “Ah, not used to Northern temperatures, are you? Count yourself lucky. Thirty years ago the cold was much worse. The one good thing Global Warming has done is make my country more tolerable for tourists!”

They stopped to pay the parking fee and then made their way towards the entrance of the parking lot.

“Where are we heading?” asked Yuuri, looking around curiously as they walked past rows of parked cars.

William brought out a car key and pressed on one of its two buttons. A nearby car beeped.

“The hotel where you’ll be staying at. Filming only starts tomorrow, so tonight you can relax and unpack. Maybe even visit the bars of Luleå.”

“Lewlee-ah?” asked Yuuri hesitantly, trying to pronounce the foreign word right.

_“Luleå,”_ corrected William.

He opened the trunk and set Yuuri’s bag in it. Then he went for the driver’s seat while Yuuri settled down next to him.

“What is Luleå like?” asked Yuuri, looking around.

William didn’t answer straight away — he was busy moving his car out of its parking place. Considering how close his car was to the two cars on either side, it wasn’t too surprising that he needed to fully concentrate on the task at hand.

“It’s a nice place,” was what William finally said, once they were driving away. “From November to April, the Gulf of Bothnia freezes over. It’s quite the sight. The entire Luleå archipelago becomes perfect for ice skaters. Pios has used this area for advertising before, but I think this is the biggest project they’ve attempted here.”

“How big is the… ar-chi-pe-la-go?” asks Yuuri, stumbling over the new word. His English wasn’t good enough for him to have heard the word before.

“Over one thousand and seven hundred islands,” said William proudly, delighting in Yuuri’s wide-eyed expression. “Big, right?”

Yuuri nodded. “Japan has a lot of islands too, but Sweden is a much bigger country.”

“Sweden has a lot to offer. If you can, you should try doing some tourism. It’s really worth it. Luleå is really the perfect place for an ice-skater. There are some great ice roads you can take to the islands of Hindersön, Stor-Brändön and Långön. There’s also a lot of traditional food, and amazing views…”

William continued talking lovingly about his country during the whole trip, telling Yuuri about local tales, great places to visit and the history of various parts of the country.

-x-x-x-

Luleå was beautiful. It was about the same size as Hasetsu, surrounded by water and evergreen forests. The architecture was stereotypically European, and had a nice church and several old buildings. A lot of the houses were made out of red bricks, which was something that seemed prevalent in Sweden, from what Yuuri had seen of the country so far.

It was also so cold Yuuri might be losing his toes to frostbite.

“Don’t tell me a little cold is enough to frighten you!” exclaimed William, his loud laughter making passing people look over curiously.

Yuuri sighed, hiding inside the folds of his coat. “Then I won’t say anything,” he mutters.

“Don’t worry, we’re nearly there,” William assured.

They had parked a few streets away and now William was guiding Yuuri towards the hotel, which felt much further away than William had assured him it was.

Finally, the hotel came into view. William pointed at the nearby building with a satisfied grunt.

The ground floor had outer walls made of white stone, and the upper floors had red brick. It looked elegant, and judging by the architectural style, the building was well over sixty years old.

“Best hotel available,” said the man. “The others should already be there.”

Yuuri squinted at the building. _“Stadshottelet?”_ he read.

William nodded. “Yep. Good pronounciation.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to thank the man, but was distracted when the entrance of the hotel came in sight. Or rather, who was waiting there.

Viktor was standing outside, bundled up in a thick pea coat and a scarf that hid half his face. He’d been staring at his phone, but right as Yuuri noticed him, some instinct made Viktor look up.

Their gazes met.

Face lighting up, Viktor raised his hand to wave enthusiastically.

“Yuuuuriiii~~!” the man called, hurrying over to them.

He opened his arms to catch Yuuri in a hug but at the last moment Yuuri moved out of the way, too flustered by the show of affection. Did all Europeans behave this way? Or was it only a Russian habit?

“V-Viktor!” exclaimed Yuuri, trying to ignore the way Viktor was pouting at having his hug rejected. “Were you waiting for us?”

Viktor looked at William blankly, then turned his gaze to Yuuri. “Well, I was waiting for you, Yuuri. I have no idea who this other guy is.”

William didn’t seem to be offended in the least. He was smiling  at both Viktor and Yuuri, expression welcoming. “I’m William, one of the guides.”

“Oh,” said Viktor, nodding along. “I already met the other guide, Tilde. She’ll be taking us out on the ice for the filming.

Yuuri, however, was still stuck on Viktor’s earlier words.

“You were waiting outside for us?” he asked, incredulous. “Viktor, do you have any idea how cold it is? You could get sick!”

Viktor leaned closer to Yuuri, grabbing Yuuri’s arm. “Well then you’ll have to warm me up. If you don’t then I might be too sick for our work together tomorrow~”

“Or we could just go inside,” grumbled Yuuri into his scarf, trying to hide his heated cheeks. He really didn’t want Viktor to realize the effect he was having on him. “It’s already cold enough out here.”

“Come, follow me,” said Viktor, pulling Yuuri along. He seemed to have forgotten all about William, who was following behind and smiling at Viktor’s antics.

Unlike the outer part of the hotel, the inside was much more modern. The lobby was full of sleek furniture in tones of black and white, with very little colour apart from a few plants and chestnut-coloured shapes set in the white floor.

William went over to the front desk while Yuuri sat with Viktor on armchairs set against the wall.

“When did you arrive?” Yuuri asked Viktor, keeping an eye on William and the receptionist.

“Around the end of the afternoon,” said Viktor, playing with his cuffs absent-mindedly. “I took a plane to Luleå Airport from Stockholm and had the time to unpack before you arrived. It was very lonely without someone to talk to.” Viktor was looking at Yuuri as he said those last words.

What was Yuuri meant to say to that? Viktor’s face, and the way he’d hinted at being impatient to see Yuuri again… How was Yuuri meant to react?

Viktor was acting so friendly, so genial, so nice, and Yuuri couldn’t understand where it was all coming from. Viktor might just have a friendly personality but it didn’t change the fact that he barely knew Yuuri and had no reason to behave in such a way.

Yuuri felt both pleased and uncomfortable with the attention. It was a mix of emotions that had him shifting in place, incapable of finding anything to say that wouldn’t sound foolish.

Thankfully, William arrived at that moment, holding up a keycard and a piece of paper.

“This is for you, Yuuri. Key to your room, and on this paper there’s your room number and the wifi password, as well as my number and email in case you have any problems. We’re meeting tomorrow at half past nine at the entrance to head out to the filming area. Breakfast area is open from seven to half past nine. Any questions?”

“No,” answered Yuuri with a shake of his head, taking the keycard and the paper. “Thank you.”

William clapped a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Try to get some sleep. That’ll help you with jet lag during filming tomorrow.” With one last smile, the man left.

Before Yuuri could react, Viktor had grabbed his keycard and was walking off towards the stairs.

“Come on, let’s take a look at your room and explore it a little, hmm?” A wink.

“W-w-what?!” Yuuri spluttered, hurrying after the man. “Wait, no! I’d like to take a shower and relax a little! Not…” He waved up and down, gesturing at Viktor’s person. “And I need to go to bed early so jetlag won’t bother me as much tomorrow!”

Viktor’s expression nearly made Yuuri falter. The man was pouting, looking at Yuuri as though he’d crushed all of Viktor’s hopes in one fell swoop.

“Come on, Yuuri! Have a little fun with me!”

_Did he have to say it with such suggestive undertones???_

“I…” A moment of hesitation, before William’s words came back to mind. “I need to be ready for tomorrow. Sorry. Maybe another time?”

Viktor’s eye twitched; a crack in his facade.

“Sorry,” repeated Yuuri with a wince, feeling as though he’d committed murder instead of just saying ‘no’. “I really need to take that shower.”

Yuuri turned to walk up the stairs towards the first floor. He told himself he didn’t mind when Viktor didn’t try to stop him.

-x-x-x-

The next morning, quite a gathering of people assembled to head out. Yuuri and Viktor were there, of course, but also the two guides, William and a woman named Tilde, as well as a cameraman, a technician and the man in charge of filming.

“Before we head out,” said the manager once he was sure everyone was present. “How about some introductions?”

They were all sitting in the lobby except for the manager, who was standing. His incredible height made him tower intimidatingly, though the beaming smile barely hidden by his bushy mustache made him seem much more friendly.

“I’m Lars Thorsten. I’m from the Swedish branch of Pios, as you could guess from my name, and I’ve been in marketing for over nine years now. I’ll be in charge of things around here, so if you have any problems or questions, feel free to ask me.” He paused, and then nodded at the cameraman. “Your turn.”

The cameraman introduced himself as Michael and gave a standard introduction with a: “Hi, nice to meet you. I’ll be doing the filming and makeup. It’s an honour to meet such talented people. I really admire your hard work.”

And when pressed about that last part, the man smiled uncomfortably. “Ahh… I don’t actually watch much skating… I’m more of a football fan.”

Disappointed, Yuuri settled back into his chair while the others continued introducing themselves.

While the technician, Thomas, was explaining his role for the venture, Yuuri took a quick peek at Viktor.

The man was uncharacteristically quiet. He didn’t seem unhappy, just… serious, while focusing intently on the people he would be working with.

Was Viktor still disappointed about being denied access to Yuuri’s room yesterday? Or did he just have such a good work ethic that in the presence of  his coworkers for the week, he was willing to put away his usual exuberance in favour of perfect professionality?

After the technician was done, the only woman of the group stood up to introduce herself as Tilde. Unlike William, who was a guide that served more as a chauffeur to drive people to and from the airport or the train station and also helped carry bags, Tilde was a guide who knew the region like the back of her hand and would help the group avoid patches of thin ice. She was there in case there was an accident, as she knew how to get someone out of the water safely if they fell through the ice and was very qualified when it came to medical care and first aid in general.

All of them seemed very nice, though only William and Mr Thorsten seemed to have any personality. the others were bland and polite, smiling blankly at Yuuri and Viktor.

Yuuri tried to ignore the rising self-doubt and desire to return home. He’d signed the contract and was committed — he couldn’t just leave.

Mr Thorsten clapped his hands together. “Very well, let’s get going then.”

They headed outside and towards the nearby parking, where two cars were ready. William was to drive one, while Tilde would drive the other.

Mr Thorsten gestured towards the two cars. “Michael, Thomas, you two are with Tilde. Nikiforov and Katsuki will be with me and William in the second car.”

Viktor cleared his throat. “You can just call me Viktor. We don’t need to focus on formalities.”

Mr Thorsten smiled widely and clapped a hand on Viktor’s back with such enthusiasm that Viktor stumbled forward, eyes wide.

“Too strong…” whispered Viktor with a pained hiss, while Mr Thorsten was smiling cluelessly.

“Then you can call me Lars! You too, Katsuki!”

Yuuri nodded. “You can call me by my first name too,” he said, a bit overwhelmed. Lars reminded him of Viktor, though at the moment Viktor seemed much more subdued than usual. And Yuuri was most likely the reason why.

Swallowing back his nervousness, Yuuri decided he’d be saying sorry as soon as he could get Viktor alone. He didn’t really feel sorry for wanting to be alone in his room, but he _was_ sorry that he’d hurt Viktor’s feelings.

Everyone went to sit in the cars. They had to wait a bit while the technician was checking to see if he’d packed everything, but it only took five to ten minutes before they were driving away.

Lars and William were at the front of the car, while Viktor and Yuuri were in the back seats. Viktor’s customary smile had yet to appear, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Yuuri realized he’d have to man up and do something to repair his relationship to his idol. The idea that he might’ve hurt _Viktor Nikiforov’s_ feelings was terrifying, and the last thing Yuuri wanted.

“Viktor…?” Yuuri asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Lars and William were talking quite loudly and not paying attention to anything else, but Yuuri really didn’t want anyone else to hear.

For a second Yuuri thought Viktor wouldn’t respond, but then the man turned his head to look at Yuuri.

“Yes?”

That blank expression crushed any doubt Yuuri had as to why Viktor’s usual exuberance was gone.

 

_He hates you…_

 

_You hurt his feelings._

 

_You ruined everything._

 

_He probably regrets talking Pios into offering you an endorsement deal…_

 

Yuuri pushed the toxic thoughts to the back of his head to the best of his ability, but the ball of fear in his stomach was still there, knotting his insides together. He had to say something to make this right, but a simple ‘sorry’ would not be enough. He’d say that yesterday after denying Viktor, and it obviously had not done much good.

In his desperation to mend his relationship with his idol, an uncharacteristic amount of raw honesty came out, taking the form of a confession he’d never dared making:

“I’m scared… all the time,” Yuuri admitted, looking down at his knees and fiddling with his clothes. “I’m scared I’ll screw up at a competition, I’m scared of disappointing my parents, I’m scared my friends back in Japan will have moved on from me because I never visit them, I’m scared Celestino will finally drop me for a skater that’s better at dealing with pressure… I always feel like it’s only a question of time before my friends see the nervous wreck I am inside and decide to leave me, so I sometimes avoid their text messages for days, too petrified to even answer a standard ‘hello, how have you been?’.”

Yuuri inhaled deeply, shuddering as he did so. The car was silent as they drove, and Yuuri’s face burned with the realization that William and Lars had heard and were listening in despite his efforts to be subtle. But he pushed past the embarrassment, determined to continue:

“I arrive in Stockholm, and I’m scared I’ll miss my flight to Luleå or that I’ll get lost in the airport. I’m scared something might happen to my luggage and it gets lost on the way. I’m scared I’ll be so bad at acting that the whole week has to be cancelled because I’m not good enough for the advert to look nice. I get to Luleå and I’m tired, sweaty and just as scared as ever. My guide tells me to sleep so I’ll be in top form the day after… and I say yes. So when you ask if you can come to my room I think ‘I’m scared I’ll say something stupid I’ll say something stupid in front of my idol’ and ‘I’m scared because I don’t know how to talk with Viktor Nikiforov and be interesting’ and ‘I’m scared because I’ve just been through a cross-continental flight and I stink and haven’t taken a shower yet, and my smell will surely scare Viktor away’. So I say ‘no, sorry, I’d rather you don’t go to my room’, that way I can be in my room alone while I try to deal with the fear like I deal with it before every competition — push it back and try to ignore it until it goes away. That doesn’t always work, but I don’t know what else to do.”

Yuuri bit his lip, determined to stay truthful until the end. This time he wouldn’t skirt around the issue like he had with multiple other people, brushing them off and saying everything was fine. This was Viktor Nikiforov, and Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to do anything else than tell him the entire truth. Viktor  had defined Yuuri’s childhood in a way he would probably never know. He would never know the extent of what he meant to Yuuri, but that didn’t mean Yuuri couldn’t show his respect in other ways.

“I’m always scared. That’s just how I am. And sometimes my fears make me push people away, because I don’t want them to see those fears I have, to realize they exist. I’m sorry you had to be one of those people yesterday, Viktor, and I hope you can forgive me. I feel sad when I notice you don’t smile as much.”

There was a pause. It stretched on for so long that Yuuri’s doubts came back full force.

 

_You **idiot** , why did you have to attack Viktor with such a long monologue?! A simple excuse would have worked better. Viktor doesn’t care about your petty little issues — it’s not like you have real problems like being extremely poor or having terminal cancer! Your mind just makes up problems where there aren’t any and you get scared over stuff that’s perfectly fine! Your **worthless** , made-up issues don’t concern Vik— _

 

“I’m your idol?” asked Viktor.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Yuuri looked up and finally dared to glance at Viktor. The man’s mouth was half-open, eyes wide.

“Of course,” said Yuuri. “You…” _You’re the best. You’re perfect. You give my life meaning._ “You inspired me to become a skater, when I was a child. I saw you on TV and… well… I decided to try my hand at figure skating.”

“And then years later,” whispered Viktor, “there you are, stealing a gold medal from right under my nose.”

The words should have triggered Yuuri’s anxiety, made him stammer out apologies, if it weren’t for the small, hesitant smile on Viktor’s face and the fact that he’d just grasped Yuuri’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

It wasn’t exactly but forgiveness Yuuri had been hoping for, but he was beginning to understand that Viktor aid the most important things with his actions, not his words.

And so, Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand too, leaning just a bit closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A FEW EXPLANATIONS: Some might say that Viktor is OOC in this chapter because in canon he never seems upset when Yuuri refuses to do things with him such as sleeping together, bathing together, etc. However, in my fic the crazy events of the banquet have not happened. Unlike canon, where Viktor is secure in the knowledge that Yuuri likes him based on the banquet events and all he has to do is flirt until Yuuri responds, ignoring any hurtful denials along the way, in my fic Viktor doesn't have much to base his confidence on. He's interested in Yuuri, the first person to truly challenge him, and he flirts. But when he's refused, he takes it seriously because he hasn't seen Yuuri pole-dancing or grinding against him or dancing with him. Viktor's feelings, in my fic, are based on much less than in canon, which is why he doesn't flirt as hard (he hasn't been showing off his naked body to Yuuri) and takes rejection more seriously.
> 
> You know, this chapter was meant to be much shorter because I was being slow at writing and wanted to get this out as fast as possible. When I reached 2.9K yesterday, I realized I wouldn't be able to write my usual 4K and be able to post today. So I told myself 'Okay, I'll just write approximately 3K and post that. 75% of my usual chapter length is still pretty good.' And today I wrote until I reached 3K, and then I decided I had to do a quick ending so that the ending of the chapter doesn't feel overly abrupt. I started writing, and in my effort to write a good chapter ending I somehow managed to add 800 words to my chapter, when before I'd been struggling to write anything at all. I have no idea how it happened, but at least that means the chapter is much longer, right?
> 
> I've been keeping count of the *VOTES* for the three story ideas I proposed in the A/N of the last chapter and the votes are extremely close. Nearly at a tie. The 'winning' story idea changes with evry vote, basically. That's how close the votes are. So I decided to try and give you guys more information on the three story ideas. Hopefully that'll help show a clear favourite in the tally.
> 
> Here are the longer descriptions:
> 
> 1) A Viktor/Yuuri fic which is both urban fantasy and mafia AU at the same time. Everything is still like in canon and the characters are still skaters, but there’s some urban fantasy and mafia stuff on top of it.  
> EXTRA INFO: The 'mafia' element does not mean YOI characters will be mafia members instead of skaters. I added mafia to the story to give it more actions. Basically, it's like YOI and everyone skates, but there's crime as an important plot point in the story. The mafia will be one of the main 'antagonists', you could say, though it's not quite the right word for it. They're basically an important plot element.  
> The mention of 'urban fantasy' is like the mention of 'mafia' - Everyone still skates and the YOI world is exactly the same, except an added urban fantasy element will start a canon divergence. The story will be rated M at a minimum, and not because of sexy stuff. This fic is more serious and action packed than canon is.
> 
> 2) A Viktor/Yuuri/Chris fic that starts out as a canon divergence and then goes on from there. It features a lot of jealousy before ending up in a three-person relationship.  
> EXTRA INFO: The idea for this fic is much more simple and thus it's harder for me to give extra information without telling you too much. Basically, Chris is Viktor's rival for Yuuri's affection, and the canon divergence starts in episode 1, when the Sochi GPF happens.
> 
> 3) An Otabek/Yuri/JJ time travel fic with an unusual take on the time travel trope.  
> EXTRA INFO: One of the things Yuri will be trying to fix is JJ's relationship with Isabella, because due to some miscommunications their relationship ends in the future and sends JJ into a deep depression. The efforts Yuri makes lead to him and JJ becoming tentative friends, until Yuri's help backfries on him spectacularly when JJ decides he likes Yuri more than Isabella after seeing Yuri's 'sweet and caring nature'. *snort*  
> This fic is lighthearted and cute, with some serious moments here and there.
> 
> Please vote for whatever story you would like next. Only one vote per person. Some people voted for two stories, so I just split their vote in half and gave a 0.5 vote to each story the person voted for. So if you really can't decide, feel free to mention two stories. You'll be able to vote until I post chapter 8. The results will be in chapter 8's AN and I'll post the first chapter of the new story around the same time as I post the final chapter of this fic.
> 
> Currently votes are at:
> 
> 1) Urban Fantasy/Mafia Viktuuri fic:  
> 7 votes
> 
> 2) Viktor/Yuuri/Chris fic (Viktuuris? Chruutor? What kind of ship name would work???):  
> 5.5
> 
> 3) Time travel Otabek/Yuri/JJ fic:  
> 5.5


	6. Hit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should stop promising updates on certain dates. This chapter was meant to be out, what, two weeks ago? I might as well stop giving estimates on when next chapters will be posted if I can't get it right.

.

.

.

Tilde stopped her car next to a frozen river after they’d been driving north for quite a while. William parked right behind her and everyone left the car. The cameraman and technician were bringing out their equipment while Tilde guided everyone else towards the river bank where several snowmobiles were waiting.

“We’ll be using these to get to the filming site,” she announced. “There are compartments for your things. If you are carrying something too big to fit, you’ll have to hold it by hand while you’re on one of these snowmobiles.”

William held up two backpacks. “Will there be enough place for the food, or should we just put these on?”

Tilde frowned. “Some of the camera equipment will need to be placed in the compartment, so if we can avoid putting the backpacks there it would give us more place.” She held her hand out. “Give me one of them.”

While William and Tilde continued discussing logistics, Lars, the manager, came close to Yuuri.

“My colleagues and I have all driven snowmobiles before when filming in such areas,” he told Yuuri. “We only have four of them, so we’ll have to ride in pairs. Do you have any preference for who you want as a driver?” He looked genuinely worried. “I wasn’t aware you had anxiety problems, so if there’s anything wrong, tell me and I’ll do my best to help.”

Yuuri’s lips thinned as a surge of humiliation tore through him. That confession in the car had been meant for Viktor’s ears only, and now Lars and William knew. Yuuri felt uneasy, cornered like prey. Lars’ comforting words did nothing to quell the persistent embarrassment Yuuri was feeling.

A hand came gently down on Yuuri’s shoulder and he turned around, forgetting all about answering Lars.

Viktor was behind him, and instead of the somber expression he’d been displaying since this morning, he was grinning.

“Don’t worry, Lars, Yuuri will be driving with me!”

The comforting squeeze made Yuuri forget his embarrassment in favour of gratitude. Viktor didn’t even know him that well, and yet had been able to see how uncomfortable he was and was now trying to help him out of the situation. The gratitude Yuuri felt was overwhelming.

Lars raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how to drive one?”

Viktor shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got a driver’s license, which is what you need to be allowed to drive a snowmobile, right? And I tried one on vacation once. It should be fine.”

Reluctantly, Lars agreed. “Very well. I’ll go with Tilde at the front.”

The man went to join Tilde while William and the two other workers settled down on their snowmobiles. The technician was the only one who had his own snowmobiles, as everyone else was sharing.

Viktor urged Yuuri forward and they sat down. Viktor was at the front of the vehicle while Yuuri was right behind, forced to sit closer to Viktor than he was strictly comfortable with.

“Everybody ready?” asked Tilde loudly, looking around.

There were a few nods and noises of agreement.

“Remember to hold on tight and follow my trail exactly. I know where the ice is thickest so don’t drive on the side because I can’t guarantee it’ll be safe. Keep a bit of a distance between you and the vehicle in front of you so we don’t put too much weight on the ice in the same spot. Any questions?”

“What do you mean by ‘a bit of distance’?” asked the technician.

“Around five meters minimum,” said Tilde. She gestured at a nearby tree. “Same distance as the one between me and that tree.” She looked at the people around her. “Anything else?”

Head shakes all around.

“Good. Let’s go.”

With a nod to herself, she turned her vehicle on and drove down onto the frozen river. After a few seconds, the technician followed right behind her.

“Viktor, you go first!” said William loudly. “I’ll be going last in case someone needs help.”

Yuuri could feel Viktor’s body move as the man nodded perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “No problem!”

The engine turned on, and Viktor turned to look at Yuuri.

“Hold on tight, okay?”

After a second of hesitation, Yuuri obeyed.

-x-x-x-

It took quite a while until they’d driven far enough to arrive somewhere deserted where there were no people skating or walking across the ice, nor were there any marks left behind by anyone that had passed by. The ice was flawless and the snow on the river banks was untouched, with beautiful trees providing quite the contrast. The weather wasn’t perfect as there were quite a few clouds, but the environment more than made up for it.

While the cameraman and the technician were setting up their equipment, Lars was explaining to Viktor and Yuuri exactly what would be expected of them.

“You’ve probably read the scripts already, but I’ll remind you what we need you to do.” He gestured at the shining expanse of ice. “I want you two to skate. Try a few jumps and twirls, and basically keep it as impressive as you can. I don’t expect top notch jumps, because the ad is meant for the general public, not skating experts. Try to smile as much as possible, look like you’re having fun, and so on. You’re not actors, but try to keep it believable. We’ll be filming as much as we can and keep more material than we need because we’re not the ones who’ll be deciding which shots to keep — the marketing team will do that and all the other editing that’ll be needed. We might come back here tomorrow depending on how much we’ll have time to do today.”

“And what about the second part?” asked Viktor, looking at the surroundings curiously. “Where we take off our shoes and I say the name of the brand?”

Lars waved dismissively. “That’s not for today. We’ll need to use makeup on Yuuri to make his foot look really bruised and painful and that part will be filmed somewhere else entirely. Today we’ll just be focused on the skating.” He stretched, barely hiding his yawn. “Well, I’ll let you put on your skates. We’ll start filming in ten minutes.” And with those last words, he walked off towards the two guides who were standing further away, chatting in low tones.

Viktor opened up the compartment of the snowmobile and tugged out two bags. “This one’s yours, right?” he said, handing the dark grey bag to Yuuri.

Nodding, Yuuri grabbed the sports bag and fished out a pair of bland, uninteresting skates that Pios had given to him for the advert. They were meant to be overshadowed by Viktor’s Pios skates, so that at the end of the advert the Pios shoes would look better by comparison.

There was a moment of hesitation as Yuuri looked around to find a place to sit so he could put his skates on. They didn’t expect him to sit down on the river bank, in the snow, did they?

Viktor seemed to understand, because he smiled and gestured at the snowmobile they had ridden on. “Sit there.”

“Thanks,” said Yuuri shyly, feeling ridiculously pleased for some reason.

Viktor was incredibly kind and polite and Yuuri still had some trouble believing it was all real. Ever since he’d won at the Grand Prix final, it was like some inner fire had been lit within Viktor and he’d started paying a surprising amount of attention to Yuuri. It was flattering without being overwhelming, which was just the right mix for Yuuri’s anxiety to stay dormant. Most of the time, at least.

Yuuri sat down on the automobile and realized as he did so that while two people could easily ride on it, it wasn’t wide enough for two people to sit on it and comfortably put on skates. The vehicle was made to be sat on with one leg on each side, which Yuuri wasn’t doing in order to change his shoes.

So instead of sitting down, Viktor raised one of his legs and pulled of his boot with a strong tug. He was balancing on one leg, trying to lace his skates, and the way he had trouble keeping himself from falling made Yuuri snort. Honestly, how could a figure skater have bad balance?

Yuuri’s reaction made Viktor lift his head in surprise, and unfortunately that was all it took for him to overbalance and fall.

“Oof!” was the noise Viktor made as he landed sprawled across the surface of the ground, half on the ice and half on the river bank. The ice didn’t crack, which put part of Yuuri’s fears to rest.

“Are you okay?” asked Yuuri, seconds away from dropping his skates to hurry over to Viktor in his socks.

Viktor looked up, rubbing his head with a grimace, and the movement revealed his nose, which had turned bright red from the impact.

The sight of that red nose and the way Viktor had fallen made Yuuri grin despite himself. He shouldn’t be laughing at the misfortune of others but this was rather amusing and ridiculous.

The moment Viktor saw Yuuri’s smile his pained frown disappeared and he grinned back.

“It takes more than that to hurt me!” Viktor chirped. Completely nonchalant despite his red nose, he stood up and finished putting his shoes on.

Yuuri was taking a bit longer to lace his skates, so Viktor entertained himself by skating circles around Yuuri. Viktor was smiling so brightly Yuuri had trouble focusing on his shoes properly.

“Done,” said Yuuri after a few seconds of struggling with his laces and pretending he wasn’t staring at Viktor.

“Perfect!” the words were exclaimed in a way disturbingly  close to a squeal.

Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s arm and yanked him off the snowmobile. Off balance, Yuuri tripped straight into Viktor’s waiting arms. Without a second’s pause, Viktor hoisted Yuuri up so that their heads were at the same height and began skating. Yuuri’s feet were dangling above the ice uselessly while Viktor moved them both across the ice in a parody of a waltz.

Face red, Yuuri looked away from Viktor’s intense stare. “I don’t think this is very professional.” But he wasn’t moving away, despite his words.

Yuuri was used to being manhandled. When he had been a child, Minako would often move his limbs to help him position himself correctly during ballet classes, and his coach Celestino had sometimes held his arms or legs to help him during flexibility exercises. However, Yuuri wasn’t used to Viktor as he was used to Minako and Celestino. Normally he should be moving away, but after his confession to Viktor about his anxiety, there was enough trust for him to… not run screaming from Viktor’s arms

“Nonsense!” responded Viktor, smile audible. “This is fun and perfect for an advertisement.” He turned around, moving Yuuri along like a doll, and dipped him.

“I’m not sure—”

“Lars!” Viktor called.

The manager, who’d been talking with the cameraman and gesticulating at the equipment, turned around sharply when he heard his name. His face brightened when he saw Viktor.

“What is it?” As he asked that, he seemed to finally take in the way Viktor and Yuuri were waltzing around. “Oohh, what an interesting idea! We could incorporate some pair skating in the advertisement!” His eyes were shining with excitement.

Yuuri frowned. “Are you sure?”

Pair skating would be more complicated to do because Viktor and Yuuri didn’t have experience skating together. They’d need to put more effort in to achieve a similar result to what they would get by skating separately.

Lars nodded encouragingly. “Yes. If we can get you and Viktor skating like that, we could spin it as being pro gay rights. It’s extremely popular at the moment to support homosexuality. That alone could get a lot of people talking about about the advertisement, and our brand as a result.”

Yuuri pushed away from Viktor, landing back down on the ice. His lips were pursed and he was trying to find a tactful way of explaining to Lars that his idea wasn’t as great as he seemed to believe.

“Lars…” said Yuuri, eyes downcast. “I don’t know if you realize this, but Russia has laws against homosexuality. And Japan isn’t exactly the most accepting country either.” He swallowed, uncomfortable with Viktor and Lars watching him. “And figure skating is a sport where some athletes get docked points if there are rumours of them being homosexual. We can’t afford to do this. Especially Viktor. His career would take a big hit, or might be ruined entirely.”

There was a pause while Lars’ face showed regret at his badly thought-out idea.

“... It’s fine,” said Viktor.

Utterly bewildered, Yuuri turned around to stare at Viktor.

The man was _smiling!_ He looked completely oblivious. Had he even listened to the problems Yuuri had just cited?

“No, it won’t,” said Yuuri slowly, as though Viktor were a small child. “Doing this could ruin your career and you might get fined! Or go to prison.” He threw his hands in the air. “Whatever punishment is used in Russia for this.”

Viktor skated close to Yuuri, breaching his personal space as if it didn’t exist. He grasped Yuuri’s chin and tilted Yuuri’s face up so that they were looking in each other’s eyes.

“I am perfectly aware of that,” said Viktor. He still had that same oblivious smile on his face, but now that Yuuri was closer he could see a certain sharpness to it, a brittle edge that would cut until it broke. “But you only have half the information, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stood his ground. He didn’t blush, step back, or stammer. This was too important. If Viktor was agreeing to Lars’ proposition, then he might as well be killing his chances of ever winning a gold medal again.

“Then tell me what I’m missing, Viktor. Convince me you’re right. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re about to make a big mistake. Do you realize the effect this could have?”

In any other situation, Yuuri would’ve been overjoyed at the idea of filming an advert where he’d be so close to his idol, to be given a chance to get to know the man behind the legend. But he refused to take part in the destruction of Viktor’s career.

Yuuri wouldn’t have minded doing something like this in an advert with anyone else, but Viktor had to take his country’s laws into account.

Viktor sighed, looking away. “Do you know what happens these days when a pop singer or a famous actor or any kind of public figure admits they are not heterosexual? They get called brave, and stunning, and everyone behaves as if the star made a large sacrifice, something risky, while the sales for that person’s music or movies go through the roof. Being bisexual or homosexual is so accepted in Western civilization that I’ve seen people pretend to be bisexual for sympathy points and attention.” Viktor shrugged. “If I do anything controversial, Russian authorities might do something to me, but there’d be so much outrage that they wouldn’t dare.”

“That’s not enough,” said Yuuri, outright glaring now. “You’re not a singer or an actor — you’re an athlete. Sports are not as accepting as those other fields. You’re risking a lot for nothing.”

Lars was standing on the side and looking quite embarrassed at the argument he’d cause, trying to signal them to stop talking.

Viktor made a noise of exasperation, even though his face was still frozen in that easy-going expression Yuuri was only beginning to recognize as fake.

“I’d planned to announce my retirement at the end of this season.”

Yuuri froze. Even Lars stopped moving, realizing how important this was.

“I wouldn’t have said it straightaway,” continued Viktor obliviously. Except, _no,_ Viktor wasn’t oblivious at all, was he? Or if he was, Yuuri had trouble separating Viktor’s true personality from the mask he put on. “Because I knew that the media would talk about nothing else after my announcement and I wanted to give my competitors the chance to shine and have their accomplishments be praised. I would’ve announced my retirement after World’s.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked Yuuri, voice cracking.

Viktor gave a self-deprecating smile. “I was distracted by the man who stole a gold medal from right under my nose. I couldn’t just retire after that.”

“W-well,” said Yuuri, regaining his momentum after _that_ bombshell, “if you’re not retiring, then you should continue to be careful with your image. And try to avoid doing things that Russian authorities would have to arrest you for.”

“Yes,” said Viktor, with an edge of exasperation that Yuuri wouldn’t have been able to detect before today. “But if I do decide to continue one more season, I should plan my retirement. I’ll be doing advertisements to make money after I stop skating, and if I do something controversial and surprising right now, people will be talking about it for weeks. People will be tripping over themselves to invite me - and you of course - to talk shows and interviews. Plenty of brands will want us to sign endorsement contracts. This isn’t as world breaking as you seem to think. Nowadays the western world, it’s harder to come out as right-wing than gay when you’re famous because progessive ideologies are so massively popular. _That's_ how okay it is for celebrities to be gay. This will be a great opportunity for our careers, Yuuri. Skating _and_ what comes after.”

Yuuri was already opening his mouth to tell Viktor how _unrealistic_ his naïve optimism was and the fact that as an athlete, he couldn't compare his situation to that of a pop star, but Viktor's next expression distracted him.

Viktor smiled, and with the sun shining on his hair, he looked like an angel. “Besides," continued Viktor, "it’ll be fun to do something new, right? And you’ll be there, too.”

Any remaining protests died on Yuuri’s lips when he heard those last sentence. His face went red and, without thinking, he said:

“It sounds like you care more about filming this with _me_ , than trying to make yourself more popular with a controversy.”

Viktor’s eyes widened, and then his face relaxed in a languid smile. “Ahh, Yuuri, you read me so well.”

A throat was cleared rather pointedly.

Yuuri suddenly realized that while he and Viktor had been talking, everyone else had been awkwardly staring and them and waiting for their conversation to finish. The manager had been the one to clear his throat, and looked rather uncomfortable now that both Viktor and Yuuri were staring at him.

“So, uh…” Lars coughed. “You know, if it’s a problem, then we don’t have to do it. It was just an idea…”

Viktor waved the issue away. “The pair skating will not be a problem. I’m fine with it.”

Then both Viktor and Lars turned to Yuuri, who barely took a second to think before agreeing too. His career was less important than Viktor’s, because he’d already achieved his dream — he’d skated on the same ice as Viktor and had even beaten Viktor at the Grand Prix Final. If his reputation was tarnished by controversy then it wouldn’t bother him because he’d already done what he had set out to do. After all, his love for the ice was second to his deep admiration of his idol, the one that had had such an effect on his childhood back in Japan.

“Are you sure?” asked Viktor.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “You just made a big speech confirming this is a good idea. Why would I not agree?”

Viktor just continued to stare at Yuuri with insistence.

Yuuri’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Viktor put a hand on Yuuri’s arm and squeezed comfortingly. Yuuri could feel some of Viktor’s body heat seeping into his sweater. With a shiver, Yuuri stepped backwards, knowing he had to put some distance between Viktor and himself before he did something stupid.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Lars with a clap of his hands. “Viktor, Yuuri, skate a bit together and see what you’re comfortable doing.  Aim for visually impressive skating and don’t worry about technique — most people watching the advertisement won’t know enough about skating to tell the difference.” He turned to the cameraman. “Michael, you’ll be filming them from different angles. We won’t be doing the real filming just yet, so you can use the time to get used to the way Viktor and Yuuri move and how you’ll be able to get the best shots. Thomas,” Lars told the technician, “we don’t need sound right now so focus on visuals so that we get the best images possible. You can take care of audio afterwards.” Finally, the manager looked over at the two guides. “William, Tilde, as mentioned in the email, we’ll be done at around four in the afternoon, so I trust you can stay busy until then?”

Tilde had already brought out a laptop with a large battery next to it, and William held a thick paperback in his hand.

Lars smiled. “Good. I’ll call to get the pair skating angle approved. It’s highly unlikely they’ll refuse, so I should be done in about ten minutes. In the meanwhile, stay busy. Chop chop!” He clapped his hands briskly and everyone scurried away and made themselves busy.

Everyone, that is, except Michael, the cameraman. He was standing in place and looking rather hesitant.

“Mister Thorsten?”

Lars turned around with a scowl. “What?” He was already holding his phone and didn’t seem happy Michael hadn’t obeyed his orders immediately.

“I…” Michael hesitated. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to film something that might send Mister Nikiforov to prison. Wouldn’t it be illegal to do this?”

Lars rolled his eyes. “We’re in Sweden, and it’s perfectly legal here. It’s also why I’ll call my superiors to be sure we’re allowed to do this.” He shrugged. “It’s Viktor’s choice. Besides,  if he gets sent to prison over it then the scandal will generate outrage and Pios will be mentioned in just about every news outlet. Tons of free press for us.”

The cameraman looked disgusted, but Viktor himself didn’t look like it bothered him.

When Lars realized that Michael wasn’t ready to let it go, he raised an eyebrow. “We’re part of a business, not a charity. Try to remember that.”

Michael shut his mouth and moodily returned to his camera.

Satisfied, Lars turned his attention to his phone and left everyone else to work. The only people that were doing much were Yuuri, Viktor and Michael. The technician had finished whatever he was meant to so and was relaxing on a fold-out chair. The two guides were seated next to them, keeping themselves busy for what would be several hours of free time until they were needed again.

The cameraman was already filming, so Viktor took the initiative.

“I was thinking we could start simple,” he said, “by skating together while we hold hands, and maybe at some point one of us could carry the other on the ice. And after that we could separate and perform the same jumps side by side, in synchronisation?”

Yuuri’s expression was thoughtful. “The music they’ll use is rather fast paced, isn’t it?”

Viktor nodded. “I think it was a mix of classical and dubstep. It gets faster near the end, which is why it’s best to keep jumps for that part.” He caught sight of the cameraman and waved him over. “Michael! We have a question!”

The man came over, though he didn’t stop filming.

“Are we supposed to do anything special to go with the music? Faster spins or slow moves?”

Michael shook his head. “You don’t need to do that. The stuff I film will be edited and if something doesn’t synch right with the music it’ll be sped up or changed to slow motion. For now, just do whatever you want. In two days I’ll have enough footage to see if there’s anything specific I’ll need to ask you guys to do or if what we’ve filmed is enough.”

That seemed to be all the permission Viktor needed to go wild. The next few minutes showed exactly how good Viktor was at choreography. Yuuri had known Viktor choreographed all his programs, but he hadn’t realized just how passionate Viktor was about it.

The man insisted on trying all sorts of moves together. A lot of it was hard at first, and they knocked into each other quite a lot, but it didn’t take long for them to get comfortable. Yuuri even dared to dip Viktor once, and was gratified by the delighted smile he received in return.

Twenty minutes later, Lars returned after having finished his phone call and declared he’d received permission from his superiors to change the theme of the advertisement.

Viktor’s energy only seemed to grow after that.

Yuuri smiled, despite the niggling doubt that this manufactured controversy would backfire on them.

Everything would be fine. The first step towards a happy ending was believing in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is important mostly because of that argument between Viktor and Yuuri. One of the issues I have with YOI is how easily Yuuri and Viktor get together. I feel as if there should have been a few more disagreements here and there to make the relationship feel more realistic. So that's what I'm trying to convey here.
> 
> Also, there is mention of Russia and Japan's stances on homosexuality. That's another thing I wish canon had talked about.
> 
> Currently votes for next YOI fic are at:
> 
> 1) Urban Fantasy/Mafia Viktuuri fic:  
> 15 votes
> 
> 2) Viktor/Yuuri/Chris fic (Viktuuris? Chruutor? What kind of ship name would work???):  
> 28
> 
> 3) Time travel Otabek/Yuri/JJ fic:  
> 9
> 
> Only one vote per person allowed. If you haven't voted yet, then chapter 5 has a detailed summary of each story idea in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. So if you are interested, you can take a look at that and vote. Right now it seems like the second story idea will win, unless the people who are interested in number 1 or 2 suddenly grow in numbers.
> 
> By the way, who else is super excited about season 2 of Miraculous Ladybug? I am totally planning a fanfic for that series.


End file.
